In My Mid-80s, My 3 Daughters Often Mother Me — A Lot

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To celebrate my 85^th birthday, my three daughters treated me to a weekend at an oceanfront resort in Florida. The three, so protective, made sure I wore a hat and sunglasses and had smeared on enough sunscreen. Because I am not so steady on my feet, they reminded me to be careful when we neared a step. I luxuriated in their care and concern.

But as we perused the resort menu at lunchtime, I felt a tinge of control added to their care and concern. “The Reuben sandwich with corned beef sounds great,’’ I excitedly exclaimed. “ Not a good idea,’’ said daughter number one. “Two much-saturated fat,’’ added daughter number two. “How about having a turkey sandwich on whole wheat bread?” suggested daughter number three.

While I wasn’t ready to abide by their dietary suggestions, I knew that the deck was stacked against me. This was a classic example of role reversal — when the adult daughters take charge of their aging mother.

When did this all happen? It was just yesterday when Laurie, my eldest, now almost 60, clung to my skirt on her first day of nursery school. or how I cried when my husband and I drove Kimberly, our youngest, to college. I remember my anger when Jennifer, as a teenager, was out past her midnight curfew but relieved when she snuck in the back door at 2 a.m.

It seems like yesterday when I was the one to tell them what to do, how to do it and when to do it. But on this day, they were the ones in charge of my freedom of choice.

Just as they fought for their independence during their teen years, I find myself doing likewise in my later years. When I got back home to my independent senior living community after our glorious weekend, the lunchtime menu included a corned beef sandwich. Ha! No daughters in sight. Guess what I ordered?

This act of defiance was more difficult when the three felt my driving skills were not up to par. “Mom,’’ said Laurie on a recent visit, “You are driving too slowly in a 60-mile zone. It’s dangerous,’’ she said. “I want to be careful,’’ I responded but later realized the signs were unclear to my aging eyes.

At first, I stayed off the parkways, but weeks later when I smashed into a car parked behind me in the supermarket parking lot, I realized it was time to ditch the driving. I grieved for a while but soon accepted the fact that I had traded independence for safety. ”I’m proud of you. This wasn’t easy to do,’’ said daughter Jennifer.

Here was a clear case of role reversal said with kindness; it was something a mother would say to her child in distress.

A few months ago, the advice my primary physician gave to ease my aching back flew out of my mind the moment I left his office. I realized that lately, I forget more quickly what had been said to me moments earlier. I felt like a helpless child until my daughter Laurie suggested that on upcoming medical visits, she would video chat with us during my appointments. My anxiety eased when I accepted her offer, mostly because she spoke to me in a kind and caring manner.

I see how easy it is for an adult daughter to get annoyed at her aging mom, the one who knew all, the one she wishes would forever remain as her wise and strong mommy. But it just doesn’t happen that way. So I’ve jotted down a few suggestions for my daughters to understand my needs as I enter my last lap of life.

— Whenever my life needs to change, I welcome your suggestions and opinions. However, allow me the dignity to have the final word.

— When it takes me time to process information, please be patient if I ask the same questions repeatedly.

— As my hearing worsens, I struggle to understand what you are saying. Speak directly to me because what you say is important.

— As I stroll more slowly, or have a fear of falling, stand by me.

— When I forget what I am saying, or struggle to remember certain words, please don’t lose your patience. When you give me time to remember, my words will flow more easily.

— When I feel lonely and reach out to you, I’m afraid you will think I am needy. The truth is that I am. Don’t judge me for that.

— My opinion reflects the world I grew up in. If you disagree with what I say, that’s okay. In a healthy relationship, there are no judges, no juries, just two people who see the world through different lenses. Let’s just agree to disagree.

— It’s easy to marinate in the negative memories of your childhood. Set free those thoughts to make room to recall the happier days. Some nights I lay awake wishing I had been a better parent. I can’t go back. I am just human — no more, no less.

— A final message: When I take my last breath, I want you to remember one thing — how deeply you were loved by me.

 
Do you have grown children who try to mother you? Let us know in the comments below.