First of all, an update on the Bugaboo Bee. Three weeks after complaining about the faulty rear brake, Bugaboo said the problem was “a misalignment in the inner tension of the chassis preventing the break (sic) from engaging.” The customer service representative said I seem to be cursed with bad luck as they have sold many Bees. Life has taught me though that I’m never alone in my experience. There must be a reason I never see anyone in my baby boom area use a Bee. So now, we’re on our fourth Bee and I got Bugaboo to throw in a car seat adapter for all my troubles.
Strollers aside, being a mother doesn’t mean that I’ve been able to get my mother to stop perceiving me as a child. A month ago, I didn’t say anything when my co-worker said all mothers are crazy. I immediately thought of my own demanding mother. It wasn’t until the following day that I realized I now fall into the mother category. There’s no way I can be crazy!
But crazy, bossy mothers seem to be a familiar refrain in my life. Among my mother’s infuriating traits is her nosiness. But the sight of this seventy-something woman walking with a cane pulling a suitcase filled with food softens my hard heart. My mother has become intolerable since Isabel’s birth. She never stops giving advice or being critical of what I do. Yet she insists on coming each week with Chinese soup ingredients in hand.
Mom loads us up with more food than we can eat. Unfortunately she can’t provide something I need more than food: company. Silence tends to accompany her visit. How can one be in the company of someone else and yet be so lonely?
Mother-daughter relationships are often complicated ones. We can never escape our mother’s expectations, hopes and dreams. They never seem to stop judging us. So I now ask myself how I will be different as a mother. Or will I be different?