Category / motherhood

by Kelly Mattei

Compliments? From a Teenage Daughter?

Compliments? From a teenage daughter?

In March, I took my daughter and a couple of friends to Miami for Spring Break. They were juniors in high school, and they were thrilled to get to go somewhere fun after all the COVID vacation cancellations. I didn’t require them to spend lots of time with me, but I did require them to go to dinner with me. Other than that, they had free time in the resort and on the beach.

On the third night, we all got dressed for dinner. I got dressed in my room, and they all got dressed in the room they shared. When it was almost time to call for an Uber, I emerged from my room, dressed and ready to go. And it was then that I heard words from my daughter that I rarely hear, “Wow! You look so fashionable!” The dress I was wearing was a cute, leopard-print number with a v-neck and bell sleeves. I thought it was cute, but I was surprised to hear she thought so too!

Go ahead and laugh. If you’re a mom of a teenager, you know those fashion compliments are rare. No matter what we wear, it’s a “mom” outfit. Many times, I’ve worn something and asked her if I look OK. I remember one time in particular last summer when we were in California. I asked her, “Does this look OK?” We were about to leave for dinner. She looked at my dress and said, “Yes! You look so cute! I mean, I wouldn’t wear that dress, but it’s great for a mom!” I had to laugh out loud. And honestly, I took that compliment for what it was and ran with it. You know why? Because I am a mom. I am a 54-yr-old mom of a teenager, and I don’t think I’m supposed to dress like her. I’m supposed to wear clothes that are a little more “mature” than the clothes my 18-yr-old daughter wears. And trust me when I say America wants me to wear clothes that are more mature than the ones she wears!

We are going out to dinner with some friends tonight, and when my daughter got home from cheer practice, I met her at the door to remind her to run upstairs and get dressed quickly. But she stopped dead in her tracks and said, “You look so cute!” Again, I took it and ran with it. I’m wearing some very faded camouflage pants that I purchased at a thrift store for $10 years ago. And tonight I paired them with a cute black blouse and suede wedges. It’s comfortable, but most importantly, it get two thumbs up from the teenage daughter…a rare feat, indeed!

The funny thing is that I bought the pants, like I said, from a thrift store (Buffalo Exchange) several years ago for $10. The daughter was with me when I purchased them and said she could not believe I was going to wear pants that had touched someone else’s crotch. I explained that all the germs from the previous owner would wash right out, but I could tell she was still gagging a little. I’m sure she doesn’t recognize my pants as the thrift store pants. And I think I likely paid $25 for the shirt from Zara several years ago too. The shoes? Well, they are cute suede wedges I wear all the time…and they are, without a doubt, the most expensive part of the whole ensemble…but they aren’t terribly expensive. It always seems to work that way, though. I could wear an expensive designer piece, and the teenage daughter would likely say it looks like something an old woman would wear…which, at 54, I am likely an old woman in her eyes! But I put on a thrift store outfit, and she acts like I’m the most fashionable mom in town!

This weekend is her senior year high school homecoming. The kids will gather for pictures Saturday night somewhere, and the parents will stand around like paparazzi. I will need to make sure I wear something she approves that night. Ugh. It’s an occasion I’d love to get her stamp of approval, but since those are so few and far between, I will settle for just a “you look good for a mom.”

That still counts as a compliment, right?

by Kelly Mattei

A Mother’s Work is Never Done…

A mother’s work is never done.

This week started out so great. I took my “sweet escape” with my friend to Miami for dinner at Nobu, and we had the best time! The day after we returned from that fun adventure, I took my daughter on a college visit. We have done a few, and she didn’t really want to do anymore, but I told her we were going, because some people had gone to a lot of trouble to schedule this tour, and we had a great time. We flew home Thursday night, feeling good about everything we had seen. College visits are one of the great things about motherhood. I love them. I’ve been doing unofficial college visits with our daughter every time we were near a university or college over the years, and we have done a few official visits. This was the last official college visit I plan to make as the parent of a prospective student. We are enjoying the college admissions process, but we are happy to have all the official visits under our belts. We came home on a high.

And then, Friday morning, things took a bad turn…

My daughter went to school in her cute little cheerleader uniform, excited about the Friday night football game. She left home at about 7:30am, and at exactly 9:30am, I received a text from her, saying she wasn’t feeling well. She was experiencing nausea. I responded, “Go see the school nurse.” Our daughter had lots of fun plans for the weekend, and I knew she wanted to tough it out, but when she called me a little while later, I knew she needed to come home. She had been to see the nurse and gotten some Tums, but she was feeling worse. I instructed her to go to the nurse and tell her she needed to come home.

She fought the good fight, but she was home at about 11:00am, and she went straight upstairs to her bed. And soon thereafter, the real nausea kicked in. Thank God she made it home before that started happening! It was a loooong day, to say the least. I didn’t know if she had a stomach bug or food poisoning, but either way, it was a long day. It’s hard to be sick, but it might be harder to see your own child sick like that. I did everything I knew to do…encouraged her to sip Gatorade, wiped her face and neck with a damp washcloth, rubbed her feet, prayed with her, stayed with her, encouraged her to try to sleep it off. We finally called the doctor, who prescribed some anti-nausea meds, and after taking them, she fell asleep till the next morning (yesterday). I was so thankful she wasn’t “hugging the porcelain throne” anymore. She was on the road to recovery, but I made her stay in bed most of the day yesterday. Her body had to be exhausted. I was pretty tired too, after staying up most of the night with her, which I was glad to do, because she is my baby, after all. A mother’s work is never done.

All day yesterday, my husband and I watched college football. My team won…barely…but a W is a W. We watched other games and relaxed all day. Our daughter crawled into bed with us last night and watched a game before retiring to her own bed for the night. I slept really well after being up most of the night before.

And then…

This morning, at about 6:30, I heard my husband jump up and run to the bathroom. The stomach bug had struck again. Man…the hits just keep on coming! We have managed to get his nausea under control somewhat, and again, I’ve worked hard keeping his drinks fresh, keeping a damp washcloth handy, rubbing his feet, and encouraging him to try to sleep it off, but now that I know how contagious this particular virus is, I’m not getting anywhere near his face. I’ve been washing my hands so much for the past three days that they’re starting to crack! I ran the dishwasher on extra hot this afternoon, and I’ve washed all the towels and washcloths in hot water. I’ll be moving them to the dryer soon…on high heat. These germs must die!

Our daughter went out for a little while this afternoon, but she wasn’t gone long. She called me and said she was on her way home. When she arrived, I met her at the door with a fresh cup of Gatorade and helped her get upstairs to her room. She is simply exhausted. I went to the nearby 7-11 and got her a Coca-Cola Slurpee. There’s just something about a Slurpee (or an Icee) that makes us feel better; she has believed since she was a little girl that Slurpees/Icees cure all ills. When she was a little girl and not feeling well, she would ask, “Will you go get me an Icee/Slurpee?” I dashed out and got her one every time. A mother’s work is never done.

I’m praying the husband starts to feel better in the next couple of hours. And I’m also praying I don’t catch this bug. Oh, it’s terrible. I’m even eating bland foods, just in case…grits have been the staple of my diet today. There’s very little I hate more than a stomach virus.

I’ll be sleeping in the guest room tonight, in hopes that I can bypass it! Yes, I slept in the bed with my husband last night, but I have a pretty strong fan on my side of the bed, and I hope it was blowing all his germs in the other direction. We shall see!

One thing I know for sure: when our house is rid of this horrible bug, I’ll need another “sweet escape.”

by Kelly Mattei

Motherhood

Motherhood.

I awoke at 3:00 this morning…wide awake. Taking a peek at the clock, I realized immediately it was my late mother’s birthday. And I couldn’t go back to sleep. The same thing happened to me on the first anniversary of her passing. I couldn’t sleep.

As I lay in bed, my brain started going crazy. That’s rare for me. I’m a person who can hit the pillow and fall asleep. Usually, when I wake up, I simply roll over and go back to sleep…many times a night, in fact. But this morning, at 3:00, I could not go back to sleep. I started thinking about my mother and how much she loved being a mother. Then I started thinking about how much I love being a mother. I truly believe it is the right job for me, and it’s certainly the single most important job I’ve ever done. I’ve certainly given it my all…just as I learned to do from my own mother, who gave us her all. She was a registered nurse by trade, but in her heart, what she always wanted to do was be a mom. And she was a damn good one. She would drop anything to help us or our friends. She made sure we were exposed to different cultures, different places, and different experiences. She volunteered at school and our extracurricular activities. She prepared meals and snacks for us and any of our friends who showed up at our house…all the time. Clearly, I did a lot of thinking last night.

After all that thinking, it occurred to me that our daughter will be a full-time resident of our home for less than a year. This time next year, she likely will be a few weeks into her first semester of college. It’s exciting for her, and it’s exciting for us. But until she goes off to college, I want to continue being a full-time mother, the best job in the world. I’m sure there are people out there who think it’s not important, but for me, absolutely nothing is more important.

And because I realized at that moment that my full-time mom career will be coming to an end when she goes to college, I needed to be closer to her. Sounds weird, but at that moment, I just needed to be “mommy” in the middle of the night again, so I went upstairs and crawled into bed with her. She stirred a little before rolling over and asking, “What are you doing here?” I explained how I was feeling, and she gave me a big hug and told me to stay the rest of the night. So I did. She intertwined her feet with mine like she did when she was a little girl, what we used to call “tucking in” her feet. She held my hand, more for my sake than her own, and we both fell fast asleep.

My own mother was always there for us in the middle of the night. Bad dream? I’d wake up Mother. Thirsty? I’d wake up Mother. Simply didn’t want to be the only one awake at night? I’d walk into her room and wake up Mother, asking her to go to the kitchen with me. We would sit there while I drank a little water. She likely had a cup of coffee…yes, she drank coffee in the middle of the night. It wasn’t that I needed water…I really just needed my mother. Last night, I guess I just needed to be a mother.

For years, our daughter would call for me in the middle of the night if she woke up. Or if she had a bad dream. Or if she didn’t feel well. Or if she just needed Mommy. At 17, she doesn’t do that anymore. Rarely, if she isn’t feeling well, she will call downstairs for me to come up. And on those nights, I do whatever it takes to make her feel better…a cold compress or warm compress, Motrin, Drip Drop (a rehydrating beverage), or just rub her feet or knees (growing pains). While I never want her to feel badly, I’m always happy to go up and help her.

She’s still my baby, and I’m still a full-time mom…for less than or year or so, anyway…just like my mother was to me. Today, on what should have been Mother’s 82nd birthday, I’ll be taking bottled water to my daughter’s cheerleading squad at the away football game…just like my mother used to do. And after I get home from the football game, I’ll have a little cocktail and make a toast to Mother’s birthday.

Happy Heavenly Birthday to Mother.