You Do the Best You Can With What You Have

I wouldn’t change the relationship I have with my mother for the world; she is truly my best friend. Though if you were to meet her and get to know her, then meet me and get to know me, you might not see how it's possible. We could not physically be more different, when you think of mother and daughter “besties,” we are not what comes to mind. We aren’t like the Gilmore Girls; no one confuses us for sisters.

When I was growing up, my mom was considered to be the strict and scary one to all of my friends and I. I wasn’t a horrible adolescent. I respected my parents, helped around the house, and I even had a job by the time I was thirteen years old. On the other hand, I did have a bit of an attitude, occasionally disobeyed my mom’s rules, and got myself into trouble, though I’m not sure if it would have ever helped the situation if I had told her that I genuinely didn’t think she would notice if I came home a few hours late. I started thinking this way by the time I was in grade six and it continued for a couple of years. It wasn’t that I didn’t think my mom cared about me or my whereabouts, but I somehow had it in my tiny brain that she probably wouldn’t even notice if I wasn’t there for a bit. Of course this was never true. She always noticed and I always got caught and reprimanded.

Yet, in between my completely typical methods of pushing the boundaries and trying to find some independence, we were best friends. Though I wouldn’t have called us that when I was fourteen, but compared to the relationships between my friends and their moms, I figured mine was pretty good. I was lucky to have had a mom like her growing up. I had someone to talk to about puberty, sex, relationships, friendships, family, and what I wanted to be when I grew up. Now, don’t get me wrong, we were not flawless. I was a typical teenager who developed ahead of my peers. I had my own struggles going on within the shark tank that is the school system. And my mom was fighting a battle of her own, one that she didn’t share with me growing up. I never expected her to and still don’t as I know boundaries exist for a reason. It has taken me many more years since adolescence to understand why she did things the way she did. It took me a long time to understand that she was a human being, and not just a mom. I feel like most people experience this moment at some point in their lives, this moment of clarity at their parents’ humanity. My mom had an identity outside of our home, and outside of our relationship. She was not a perfect parent, but she did a better job than someone else may have in her situation. My mom managed to balance a lot of different roles as a single parent, separating her time between being a mother and a homeowner, as well as working full time and trying to find some way to connect with other adults.

And being as close as we are, we have had ample opportunity to openly discuss all of our learning experiences as I was growing up. Because let's face it, she was growing up too. I don’t think you ever stop growing up and using new and sometimes unwanted experiences to help you learn and become a better person. I think that is a crucial part of being a parent, regardless of how old you are when you choose to have a child, regardless of your marital standing, financial earning, or location in the world.

Over the years we have laughed, discussed deeply, and made apologies where necessary over the countless topics of our relationship. I wasn’t an easy kid. I had my own struggles that I didn’t discuss with her, and I know that made it harder for her to understand why I was more moody than a typical teenager should have been. I didn’t make her life easy, I caused her stress and worry and sadness, too. But she raised a daughter that is quite self-aware, enough to accept my own flaws and misgivings, enough to openly discuss and apologize for any pain I caused her.

As an adult, we have only become closer. We talk on the phone almost every day, we vent to each other about work and life, and we go for dinner regularly and thoroughly enjoy shopping together. I call her out of excitement, confusion, anger, fear, panic and sometimes just the urge to chat because I’m bored. There is an ever-constant comfort in knowing that I can reach out to her, regardless of how I am feeling, because there is never any judgment on the other end of the phone.

Getting to be my mom’s friend opened up a lot of pathways for conversation, especially about my upbringing. A lot of people are left wondering why their parents behaved a certain way, or wonder why they did or did not do or say something in a specific situation. This makes room for assumptions to be made and resentments to grow. Up until a certain point, we see our parents as infallible; they know everything and never truly make mistakes. We also have a hard time seeing them as people and not just as our mom or dad, the idea of them having lives and experiences outside of our little bubble is a thought we don’t comprehend for many years. As teenagers and young adults it can often shift. Depending on the relationship with them at this point in time, we can start to see our parents as flawed, out of the loop and having no clue about what we are thinking or feeling. Hopefully this can shift again as adults; hopefully a relationship can develop out of mutual respect and understanding that you each have your own life to live now.

I am one of the lucky ones, as I do get that opportunity with my parents, especially my mom. I haven’t been left to let assumptions be made or resentments to fester about my upbringing or to be left wondering why in the world she did what she did. We get to talk about it. We get the chance to talk about why I didn’t go to summer camps (because they are f*cking expensive), or why we no longer fought about my picky eating (because she was a single, working full time mom, who didn’t have the time or energy to pick that battle anymore), or why I wasn’t allowed to have big birthday parties at the house (because she worked full time and was tired! She also didn’t have the hostess-ing parent modeled to her growing up, so she didn’t really know how to do it for me). Over time I have had the ability to understand where she was coming from, what her thoughts were, and where her mistakes were that she since wishes could have been done differently. My mom did the best she could with the information and skills that she had at the time. That information and skill evolves over time as a parent. It always does. They do the best they can with what they have. I know that now.