I wonder how many “eye rolls” a mother receives from her child[ren] during her lifetime. My mom is eighty-one, and she can still provoke a heavenward roll of my eyes. Why should I be surprised when I catch my grown children having an ocular revolution as a sign of disapproval or exasperation for something I’ve said or done?
I don’t remember at what age my children began sighing, shrugging their shoulders, and baring their teeth at me.
“My role in life is to embarrass you,” I would declare to them with a relaxed smile.
* * * * *
(Image from “Peanuts” by Charles Schulz)
My twenty-four-year old son and I have a new tradition of meeting for breakfast a couple of times during the week. There is a locally owned breakfast spot we have dubbed, “our place,” but one recent morning, we decide to try the breakfast fare at a nationally-recognized restaurant known for its omelets, massive muffins, and pancakes.
When we arrive at the restaurant, the hostess shows us to a booth and gives us laminated, grease-smudged menus. K starts perusing the multiple pages of choices. I prop my elbows on the table and smile to myself while gazing at his handsome face. His new beard suits him. He looks tired. I wonder how late he stayed up the previous evening.
“Mama, decide what you want,” he implores. “I’m hungry.”
I sin by asking: “What time did you get in bed? You look tired.”
“Mama, I’m fine. I’m fine,” he says. “Good grief.”
The eyes roll.
I divert my attention to the menu. The “make your own omelet” looks enticing, as do the potato pancakes, but I haven’t had french toast in ages. I flip over a couple of pages, and I almost flip out.
“Oh, look. Their old people menu is for the fifty-five plus crowd,” I squeal.
This is a rite of passage for me, sort of like turning twenty-one and ordering my first adult beverage.
A fledgling waiter, followed by a geriatric waitress, approaches our table.
“Don’t say anything,” says K. “You will embarrass him.”
I am not an obedient mother.
“I promise I am fifty-six,” I announce as I order my cheap omelet.
The eyes roll.
* * * * *
The childish things never given up—a roll of the eye or a heaving sigh—are softening my transition into the fifty-five plus club. The easy banter I enjoy with my children serves as a buffer for my heart as they continue to grow away (or get away) from me.
I just have to roll with it.
Lisa I am just getting around to reading the posts you’ve written and am sorry I didn’t get to them sooner. This one I just read about an outing with your son made me both smile and tear up at the same time. A mother’s relationship with her son is very different from the relationship he has with his dad. I love the way sons help and “coach” their moms with a kind of patience that dad doesn’t receive. Love ya and keep them coming.
Lisa, I think your son is very blessed to have you as his mama, and I’ll bet he knows that, too–even as he rolls his eyes! Thanks for this great piece.
Oh Amy, you are dear. My son is a sweetheart. He has been easy to mother. Thank you for reading!
All I can say is that rolling my eyes as my mother walks out of the room is extremely therapeutic. It just plain ol’ helps. Fabulous writing, Lisa.
Thank you, Terry, for pushing me along as I try to craft word into story.
Lisa, I just love you. Thank you for making me smile so early in the morning (I haven’t even had coffee yet). 🙂
Jennifer, I just love you, too. I love to make others laugh. It is a balm for a mother’s tender heart, especially as she watches her children make their get-away. You, the theologian, probably know what Karl Barth said,(yes, this country girl reads Barth!): “Laughter is the closest thing to the grace of God.”
I think that shall be my epitaph. 🙂
Ha! I love this peek at your relationship with your son. One of my daughters is embarrassed nearly every day by something I do, while I can’t seem to embarrass my other daughter no matter how hard I try! Anyway, it’s good to know, thanks to your glimpse “down the road,” that while lots of things change, some things (like eye rolling) never do.
Thank you, Kristin. Yes, some things never change and I believe the “good” things provide a sense of security in every phase of life for moms and their kids. When those eyes roll, I am reminded that I will always be their mom. And they know they can be silly kids with me—even though they are making their own way in the world. Being a mom is better than ever for me!