From generation to generation . . .

So, Thanksgiving came and went without much incident. The event was so filled with activity and new things that I really didn’t even have a chance to think about my mother. Although, there was one moment where thoughts of her came to mind. 

Let me set up the scenario: it was the first parent gathering for me and my significant other. And I was completely drowning in nervousness because, well, my father’s wife chooses to not speak a lot of English (though she understands quite a bit) and my father has a tendency of switching to ornery old man very easily. Forget all the other fears and thoughts that were plaguing my mind, those were the two that were really weighing me down. However, not much time goes by and I see, okay, things are going smoothly. So, then, without thinking twice, I begin doing what my mother has taught me so well to do – I begin helping my significant other’s mom with putting food out, etc. I immediately clear after each course. I feel good about this because not only do I want to help, but I know my mother is looking down smiling. The end of the meal comes and the table is being cleared, just as it’s been for every other course. At this point, there are only some glasses remaining on the table and random silverware. I return from the kitchen and am about to sit down when my father’s wife tells me to clear the glasses. It took less than 10 seconds (no joke) for every resentful bone in my body to flare up. I purposely did not clear the remaining clean glasses in the event that people wanted a different beverage for dessert. So, I wave her off saying not now and go to sit down. She then proceeds to physically touch me to clear the glasses. Now, I want to punch her. Ok, maybe not punch her . . . but, I really wanted to look at her and ask who she thought she was because seriously, she’s not the one who raised me or taught me how to conduct myself when having a meal at someone else’s home. This is where the significant other very quietly (and calmly) touched me and asked me to please just do what she asked. For him – I did. Had I been left to my own devices, I would have sat my weary behind down and ignored her. 

Now, let me say . . . I do not disrespect my elders. BUT, do not talk to or treat me as though I have no idea how to conduct myself. This applies moreso to my father’s wife than anyone else. And there I am not joking. To sing my mother’s praises . . . she did an EXCELLENT job of raising me, especially when I wasn’t acting like such a brat. But, when it comes to hosting and being an active participant when at someone else’s home – my mother knew exactly what to teach and show me and how to do things discretely or without having to be asked. 

So, the last thing I truly needed on Thanksgiving night was for someone to try and change what my mother taught me years ago. I take great offense that this woman, yes, I said “this woman”, thought that she had any place in telling me how to conduct myself at the home of my significant other’s parents. This was her FIRST time there . . . this was NOT my first time. I have had Sunday meals there and have helped in the style of my mother each and every time. And I think if something weren’t satisfactory or appropriate about what I did, I would know about it already. 

My mother was the most incredible host along with an incredibly active guest. She instilled every bit of her manners and skills in me, starting from an early age. And I’ve never forgotten a single iota of what she taught me. She would always tell me that if I looked bad it was my fault, not hers because she made sure to teach me everything I needed to know. So, to have some woman who has only been a member of my family for five years attempt to “mother” me was incredibly insulting and offensive. That is the one area where my temper and anger flares. I have one mother and one mother only. And because this woman married my father does not mean I want anything to do with her attempts at mothering me or giving me advice that my mother would dole out. 

Call it childish, call it being close-minded . . . but, I can say with great confidence that between my mother and I . . . there was knowledge on being a hostess and/or guest passed on that does not need or warrant any sort of improvement or alteration. Nor do I want any improvement or alteration unless it is mine.

These are some of the lessons that I have learned from my mother that will be the ones I want to pass on to my children. Without the input of anyone other than me.