I remember that as a child I thought my mother was overreacting, mean, overprotective, annoying, miss know it all and obviously the one person in the world who is unable to understand me under any circumstances. There were moments when I was whispering for myself “I hate you” so I can calm down cause she wouldn’t let me go to some random party or cause she gave me a curfew. We don’t have to mention the completely different taste in clothes, lifestyle and whatever you can think of.

It never crossed my mind to listen to her or try and understand her point of view. She was wrong in all she was saying and doing and there was nothing that could make me think otherwise. She was the bad person and I the misunderstood teenager who is always on the right path (little did I know back then).  I proclaimed myself a good child. How come she was the only one who could not see it? So what she was telling me to be home by 10pm and I was slowly unlocking the door at midnight? (don’t have to mention that inevitably she was waiting for me in the kitchen, giving me a dirty look and asking me what time is it as her watch stopped working); so what she was constantly yelling at me trying to explain how worried she is. I used to just say to her she should let me be as I am a grownup, I am a teenager and I know so well to take care of myself.  Never mind all of these. I was right and she was inevitably wrong. I never understood why on Earth would she go mental just cause I was coming home late, I was wearing a short skirt, I wanted to go to some random party or I was occasionally skipping a class or two. I was a good child. It’s not like I was taking drugs, running away from home, getting pregnant at 16 or who knows what other bad things. I wasn’t doing any of that so I was good. Not the best. Don’t get me wrong. I never thought I am the best of children just a good one. Obviously not as good as the girl next door, or the very annoying and disturbing girl in my primary school who would literally eat the books so she can be the first in class. No. I wasn’t those ones that my mum wished I was. But hey, nobody is perfect so again it was her fault and not mine. Why would she want to compare me with someone else? It was me and only me who was her daughter. I blamed her for that as well and if I could I would have blamed her for the global warming as well.

Now, I think of her as the person who raised three kids and all three of them are having kids of their own. She did her best and I realise that it was a hell of a job. Not shit easy at all. Lets face it. I come from a Communist country and when I was born, new mums were supposed to go back to work three months after birth. Most children were raised by grandparents so obviously we all had some sort of issues with our parents. It wasn’t only the generation gap but the lack of them being around us as well. My mum worked and raised us all so kudos to her. We are all old enough now and we have kids of our own (my little brother will be a father in January), our own families and homes and she still worries about us like we are still teenagers.

Having my little girl made me think. Will I be just like my mum? Will I go crazy if my daughter will go out, wear short skirts, skip school, come home late or find a boyfriend before she will be 30? (her dad already told her that she will work for Jesus and she is not allowed to date until she turns 30)

Hell yeah! I am worried now, I am checking to see if she is breathing every hour, I am not sleeping nights cause I want to make sure she is not too cold or too hot, I want to make sure that she is not hungry while I sleep and so on. I worry every day more and. To be honest I never understood my mum until I became one. So yes, on a certain level we are becoming our mothers like it or not.

Until the day we die we will worry about every little thing and we won’t stop no matter what. Our children grew inside us, they were tiny and they developed into human beings so it’s our duty to raise them as best as we can and to worry like there is no tomorrow.

SONG OF THE DAY: