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It finally happened. I reached that age when many of the lessons my mom tried to teach me when I was young finally make sense. And I have to give her a lot of credit for so graciously standing by while I failed to learn the lessons for so long, and while I stubbornly, stupidly tried to argue with her about things she knew I’d eventually see her way. I don’t know how she did it. I look back now at some of the tantrums I threw – some of the self-righteous speeches I gave – and I was dead wrong. And she just had to stand there and understand it may be another decade (or several) until I understood just how wrong I had been.
They say being a parent takes patience, but when you hear that, you think about the patience to deal with toddlers drawing on the walls and babies screaming for nothing. You don’t think about the patience it requires to watch your grown children ignore the sound advice you give them, to their detriment, until they just have to learn things the hard way. Some of her lessons I figured out in my twenties. Some are just hitting me now, once I’m married, own a home, and have a career I care about. That’s what it took. Whenever it happens for you, here are things your mom said you’d understand one day, that maybe you finally do.
You can cover up; men will still look
I remember throwing a big sweatshirt over a belly-button-showing tube top so I could sneak out of the house, remove the sweatshirt, and enjoy male attention in my skimpy outfit. Sometimes my mom would catch me. And when she did, she would shake her head and tell me, “You do not even have to dress like that to get male attention. You could wear a giant snowsuit and, so long as it were pink, men would still holler from their cars.” She’d also tell me that one day, I wouldn’t even want male attention – that I’d be sick of it. At the time, I was 14, male attention was new and exciting, and I couldn’t imagine it feeling any other way. Now in my thirties, I’d give anything to be invisible to catcallers.
Family is the most important thing
When I wanted to ditch family game night to go to a party. When I wanted to sit out the family vacation in order to go on a trip with friends. When I didn’t want to come home for the holidays during college, because I wanted to hang back and party on campus. My mom would try to tell me that family is the most important thing. But I was an ungrateful brat who was angry that my parents divorced, and couldn’t possibly ever imagine leaning on them for comfort or support again. But you outgrow that anger you think you’ll hold onto forever about perceived slights in your childhood. And you reach an age when, when something bad happens, you really just want to talk to your mommy.
Don’t end things on a bad note
As a teenager, I’d say all sorts of nasty things to my parents. We all did. We’d tell them we hated them. We’d tell them they were stupid. Luckily, they’re parents, and they won’t abandon you over being a typical bratty teen. But my mom would warn me not to say things like that to others – not to end things on a bad note. “Don’t burn bridges. You never know when you’ll need to cross one again.” I went into my twenties feeling fully justified in telling off bad bosses when I quit, not realizing I’d later need a reference. I said everything on my mind during friend breakups, not realizing that ex-friend may one day be the hiring party at a company I interviewed for. You just don’t know how life will play out, and you rarely get anything good from burning bridges. But you will often wish you hadn’t.
Always cherish your childhood friends
I had my phases when I was interested in newer, “cooler” friends, and I didn’t pay enough attention to my childhood buddies who’d always been there for me. In college, I just wanted to party and didn’t make time to visit my childhood friend who didn’t drink and was rather quiet. I had my years when I was a social climber and would be at scenester events instead of a childhood friend’s birthday. My mom said I should be prioritizing those childhood friendships. I, naively, said she just didn’t understand where I was in life. But now I don’t care about partying or “cool” events. I like to chat for hours with a childhood friend who knows me, through and through. There’s nothing better.
“Call me if you’ll be out late”
I never understood why my mom got so worked up if I didn’t get in touch for a while as a young adult or older teen. She would be in hysterics if I didn’t call her for a full week when I was in college. She’d say she thought I was dead or kidnapped. I thought she was being dramatic and overreacting. I would tell her that, too, offering no apologies or sympathy. Now, while I don’t have kids, I know how I panic if my husband goes on a trip and doesn’t call for one full day. I’m fuming. I think of the worst-case scenarios. I become certain he could be dead. And I feel so bad that I put my mother through that.
Designer clothes are a waste of money
I lived for having a certain velour matching track suit that was all the rage when I was in high school. And designer jeans. I would save all my allowance and blow it on these items, then having no money left to go to the movies or lunch with friends. For Christmas and birthdays, I’d tell my parents to just get me a pair of $300 jeans, instead of multiple smaller things. My mom tried to tell me what a silly use of money this was. She was extra right, since I was a teenager and my body was still changing – these clothes wouldn’t even fit me for two years. But now that I understand that $300 can be a car payment, or a cavity filling, or a portion of rent…I really see how dumb it is that I prioritized those clothes.
Your beauty is not tied to the scale
For many years, I had very specific, very rigid standards for my looks. I refused to be over 120 pounds. I’d change my whole day around if I were 122 pounds – canceling plans with a friend to go jogging instead. I couldn’t enjoy myself until I saw 120 on that scale again. Yes, I had an eating disorder, but I think a lot of women can get to this place of weight obsession – even those who don’t have an eating disorder. My mom tried to tell me my self-worth and beauty did not need to be tied to the scale, and that I had so much more to offer. Honestly, at 16 years old, I didn’t really know what I had to offer – I hadn’t explored that yet. Now in my thirties, I could care less about a small weight fluctuation. My confidence is rooted in much more solid achievements and traits.
Don’t care what people think
We don’t fully realize just how much of our lives we spend worrying what others think until we truly stop caring. We’ll reach new phases of caring less what others think, and believe we no longer care at all. But eventually, when you really stop caring, you realizing how much the opinions of others dictated your behavior for many, many years. My mom told me not to care what others thought. But I had to learn the hard way what a bottomless pit of despair it is to base your actions on the approval of others, and what incredible freedom there is in having zero reaction to what others think of you (except the ones you really love and trust).
Whatever it is, it’s not a big deal
Breakups in my early twenties. Embarrassing moments in my teens. Not getting this job or that job. Not getting published there. A fight with a roommate. There were so many things I would fret about, losing sleep about, that really didn’t matter. At the time, they felt like my whole world. I couldn’t imagine not having strong reactions to them. But my mom would tell me that it wasn’t a big deal – that one day, I’d forget all about it, and not believe I ever got so upset about it. I had to live a little to learn what an actual big deal is – like losing a loved one – to fully understand how small and insignificant most bumps in the road are.
One day, you’ll want my advice
The last one, of course, is this: she told me that one day I’d want her advice. I spent so many years claiming she didn’t understand me or anything I was going through. Now, as a grown woman, there are so many times I want my mom’s advice. From finances to reproductive health matters to dealing with grief, I finally understand that my mom has been through it all, far more than I have. She has the experience. Who else would I turn to? I finally see that she’s walked the same path I’m walking and is actually a wealth of knowledge.
