Seriously? Who are these women?

The New York Times reports here that a significant number of women in their 30s call their mothers multiple times a day, share intimate details of their sex lives with mom, and "lean" on them more than anyone else in their lives. One went so far as to move closer to mom because 20 minutes was too far away.

I read this article with my mouth open. I have heard of people like this, but I've never actually known anyone -- I don't think -- who has this kind of relationship with her mother. Perhaps I should qualify, I've never been good friends with anyone who has this kind of mother-daughter relationship.

I've talked with friends who have similarly angst-ridden relationships with their mothers as I do (see previous posts), and have commented that "I just don't trust women" like those in the article. That's probably a little strong. The more appropriate comment is probably that I simply don't understand them. I simply cannot envision ever being friends with my mother, let alone calling her multiple times a day. I have to muster up calling her once a month, and I'm dilatory at that.

Theoretically, I suppose it would be nice to be friends with mom. After all, she should know you better than anyone seeing as though she's been there from day 1. Literally. But that knowledge, at least for me, prevents a close adult relationship. My mother insists on casting me in roles I played in childhood and in seeing me as the 13-year-old I was, rather than the adult I am now. She can't see past it and I'm tired of trying to change her opinion. She also tries to guilt me into being "friends." Reminds me all the time that she is close with her mother. She calls and emails about getting together to do something. But I hate doing things with her. She is critical, mean and passive aggressive. I know I should "show not tell," so here's an attempt. A typical conversation involves these components: mom telling me about the daughters of her friends who are getting married any minute; comments that these girls are different from me somehow -- either they don't "work so much, so they have time to go out," or they "are knockouts"; a comment on how much I'm working. It doesn't sound very insidious, but over the years, she's delivered the not-so-subtle message that she thinks that being married is the "be all, end all" and that "career" women are secretly evil people who despise her stay-at-home existence. I am a "career" woman in her mind. I also am doomed to be a "career" woman because I look like my father, and thus will never be enough of a "knockout" to catch and keep a man. She admires my style, but frequently comments that it's a good thing to be stylish because "not all women are naturally beautiful." Subtle, yes. Maybe she's not talking about me. But that's what she does. Subtly comments around things that she thinks. She thinks she's clever. I think she's transparent.

Anyway, this is turning into a ridiculous rant that will probably have all of you saying "go get therapy or something and stop posting about your mother." My apologies - couldn't help it. The article sent me into a rant one step shy of a letter to the editor.

The mean reds

When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother "What will I be?" . . . "Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?" And here's what she said to me "Que sera sera, whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see. Que sera sera."

When I was little, my grandmother used to sing that verse all the time when she drove me around town. It's from Alfred Hitchcock's "The Man Who Knew Too Much" and it signals things sinister. I think of that song and my grandmother's voice singing it every now and then and find it rather fortuitous. I am still in the middle of my story and I don't know what the future holds. Some days I'm hopeful. CLC remarked recently that my recent encounters and plot twists sound a bit like something the screenwriters at "One Life to Live" would come up with. On days like those, I feel young and like I am just barely beyond the opening credits of my story. Other days, I don't. I feel like the future couldn't possibly hold anything interesting or exciting because the interesting has already happened. And I feel stuck. Not like I can't change things, but like the options are all too limited, too staid, too within the same genre and not at all exciting. I worry that I won't find the passion I've often had for life. Those days I am down. At night the mean reds come and upset me. They've been chasing me for a few weeks now and I want them to go away. I know they will. It's just a matter of time.