In the midst of all the chaos in my life, I have to lift up a meditation of thanks. It takes about 5 seconds, because honestly, that’s all the time I have.
But I am truly grateful for a mother with a sense of humor. I compare my mom to my mother-in-law, who called me on 9/11 to tell me it was basically the end of the world. She was in a hurry, so when I questioned her about the details—she told me to just turn on the TV and hung up. Bad News Betty.
My mom called several hours later to make sure I was okay. She had called all my sisters. We commiserated—shock, grief, fear. She let me know that a friend of the family made it out of Manhattan safely that day. And we talked of the people we knew who worked up there. She ended the call by telling me that she loved me (how many people said “I love you” for the last time on that day?) and promised we would talk again tomorrow. Good News Nancy.
As much as I rant about my mother-in-law, I have to admit, I need the good AND the bad news in my life. Granted I don’t want the bad news, but it’s there, it’s reality. Like my mother-in-law, it steals upon me unexpectedly. There’s always some trouble or trauma or issue that needs to be resolved—daily. I take the good with the bad. Because I know when Bad News Betty rains on my parade, Good News Nancy is there with my rainbow. The old saying “That which does not kill us makes us stronger” certainly applies to me. It’s just a little hard to live with, and my jaw aches because I grit my teeth during That Which Does Not Kill Me‘s calls. I’ve become stronger. And I’m not disrespectful, but I say things I would have never said at the outset of my relationship with her son, my husband. When we were first married I never wanted to upset her or rock the boat by disagreeing with her. New brides—ew.
Now I know having children means that it’s a good bet that I’ll be a mother-in-law too. I must choose my criticisms carefully. And when it’s my turn, I never want to drive anyone to tears or talk only to the child and ignore the spouse. I know change is difficult, and as moms, we tend to do the default behavior and treat our kids as, well, kids. Okay so you’re 22, I’m sorry, but this apartment is a mess. Clean it up or face a time out, sweetheart! I must reign in my good intentions and let her keep her home any way she wishes.
Over the years, my mom and I have achieved a certain comfort level. Good, not great. There are times my mom is like that glass of wine on a Friday night at the end of a long, harrowing work week. Other times she IS the proverbial fly in the chardonnay. Even in one individual I get both ends of the spectrum. |
Bernadette Sukley |
| About the author: |
| Bernadette Sukley has written, edited, fact checked for nearly 20 years. Her topics range from health to sports and lifestyle, from human interest to hard news. Her work has appeared in Men’s Health, Sports Illustrated for Women, and ABROAD magazines. Currently polishing up 3 novels for publication, she welcomes discussions on women and literature.
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