Not my friend

While driving to work today, a portion of the radio show I listen to addressed the relationship between a mother and daughter. And most callers discussing this topic stated their mom is their friend. In some cases, their best friend. Of course, I then reflected on what my relationship was with my mother and how I'll never know what it is like to be friends with my mother as an adult. Who knows . . . would we even be friends now? And then thinking of these things, a twinge of bitterness rolls through my heart.

As I've mentioned before in previous posts, my mother and I weren't the best of friends. We didn't really even get along. Ok, put us in a room, alone, for more than 60 seconds, and likely a fight would erupt. No joke. I now know that we are just too similar for our own good. And that probably would have gotten in the way of a truly functional friendship. But I feel robbed of the opportunity to have a failed friendship with my mother. And though I'll never know what it could have been like to be friends with my mother as an adult, I must thank her for not being my friend when I was a child and growing up.

When I taught elementary school, I often noticed parents (mothers, especially) being more of a friend to their child than a parent. This was evident in their communication and interactions. Inside I marveled and was mortified because my students, their children, behaved in ways that would have been totally unacceptable in my house growing up. I noticed my students would have a general flippant attitude towards adults. And then the real evidence of my students lack of respect for their parent, their friend, would be when parents (especially mothers) would express to me how their child would insist on something being completed or done because of me, their teacher. Parents would come to me and say how they couldn't understand why their child was so "bad" at home, but always heard glowing reports from me regarding behavior. How to balance the fun and being the adult is something I learned from my mother by example.

As I look back, I see that my mother mastered the art of teaching me that all adults are to be respected and heeded and that most of all, even though we may have fun together, at the end of the day . . . she's the mom. And that's what I did in my classroom - I had fun, great fun, with my students but I always made sure that at the forefront of everything was the simple fact that I was the teacher . . . I was the adult. And , for whatever reason, for however I managed to strike the balance, there were very few times in which my students needed reminding of their behavior and communication. And it made for many incredibly fun days as a teacher.

Now, I am no longer a teacher and look forward to the day when I am a mother. And I look forward to passing on to my child(ren) the values, respect, sense of fun, etc. that my mother instilled in me.

So no, there will never be a day when I am able to giggle like a school girl with my mother or go on a shopping spree with her. But, there will be many a days when her lessons are always manifested in the way I conduct myself with others. And that is because my mother was a mother, not a friend. And I'm quite alright with that.