One of those "I’m never too old to grow up more" moments

The other day, I had a conversation with my mom in which she said something to me that pretty much indicated that I fell short in some way, that I was disappointing in some measure. And reflexively, I felt like I was disappointed in her because she couldn’t accept me for me in that respect.

Then I realized, sheesh, we are doing the same thing to each other: holding the other person up to some internal measure of who we want the other to be, and constantly feeling disappointed that the other isn’t exactly that, instead of just accepting each other for who we are and loving each other and leaving things at that. For my mom, it has to do with how I present myself and my personal habits. For me, it has to do with her caring about things I consider unimportant.

Rather than holding her up to some detached ideal that she can never measure up to, I choose to accept her and love her for the awesome, wonderful, giving, loving mother that she’s always been to me. I choose not to dwell on the fussy details that obscure our affection for each other. I choose not to get offended or hurt when she holds me up to a standard I don’t feel fits me, because I know she does it out of love.

I’ll think of this as my real Mother’s Day gift to her. 🙂 I’ll send something else, of course. 😉 I love you, Mom.