Advice

The best advice that I ever received was from my mother almost 40 years ago.  I have heeded that little piece of advice all these years and have never wavered from it--not once.  I trusted her wholeheartedly--after all she is my mom.

This is what she said to me--after you get married and you have your first argument with your new husband, don't tell me about it.  It isn't any of my business.  Work it out between you.  Why?  Because you love him and you will forgive him.  But, I'm not in love with him and if he hurts you I won't forgive him.  You will get over it and have moved on all lovey dovey and I'll still be mad at him.  I'll get mad and stay mad.  So, don't tell me about it, work it out.  


And I never did tell her and I always worked it out.  I kept our little and big tiffs away from her.  I wanted her to grow to love my husband like a son and not harbor ill feelings against him.  But believe me when I say this--it wasn't easy for me.  Sometimes I just wanted someone on my side.  And sometimes I just wanted to vent, or to have someone justify my opinion.  But, I would hear that little voice inside my head--don't tell me about it.  And so I didn't.


I get it now.  After the few years of marriage I began to understand her reasoning and after my own children grew up and got married I completely understood it.  I get it.  It's so clear to me now.

Another aspect to this same line of thinking is this--when I get upset with my mom, dad, sister, husband, or children and I talk to a friend about it I just want them to listen so that I can vent.  I don't want nor do I need their advice or for them to fix my problem--I just need them to listen.  Because believe me no matter how mad I am, if you say one bad thing about them kaboom!  You will get caught in the fallout.  No one has my permission to talk badly about the people I love, no matter what!  Crazy huh?  What a distorted way of looking at things.  And yet, that's exactly how I feel.  I can say it, but you can't.  I can rant and rave and go on and on about all the things that are bothering me about this person or that person--but you can't.

The only way that I can rationalize any of these strange feelings is that they are born of love for my family.  A protective love.  One that is most likely innate.   One that means be careful--you are crossing the line, getting too close, saying too much--be careful.  It's a warning--don't mess with mine.  Sometimes I think of it as the momma bear syndrome.  You get too close, you get swiped at with my great big ol' momma bear paw.

So, I bet that's what my mother's advice was all those years ago.  If I, in my naive young married life was to expose her to anyone who might be getting close enough to hurt me--well then, she might just have to come out of her momma bear cave and smack them.  And that would have created a whole new set of problems.

Moms are smart that way.  Giving out great advice and then backing off.  I'm really glad mine did and I hope I have treated my children the same way.   I hope they feel protected, loved, respected and safe.