Lessons from my Mother part 1

This is the first of a series of entries I would like to write about lessons I have learned from my Parents that have stuck with me throughout my life as I have moved into ¨adulthood¨.  I am starting specifically with lessons from my Mother. 

As a parent, I imagine that a lot of things are said, a lot of actions taken, and you can feel very unsure about what messages are sticking, and which are not.  I am not a parent, but I feel that way when I work with youth and kids in schools.  Are they listening to me?  Will they remember this message that means so much to me?  Will they act differently from now on? 

Recently, I started reflecting on this thought.  The distinct moments of things my mother has said or done that have stuck with me until now. It occurred to me when I realized that within a lot of the way I act or think there is a whisper of my mother´s voice in my head. It occurred to me that these thoughts don´t have to be private, but in fact I could share them with my Mom and let her know how she has shaped me and molded me into the ¨responsible¨ person that I am today.

So why write this now?  Maybe it´s because I´m living abroad.  I have started reflecting on the different parenting techniques I see used here and wonder if the cultural differences in the treatment of children creates a different culture of adults. I recognize that not all parents are the same, and that I cannot generalize about ¨Peruvian Parenting¨, so I am only speaking from my experience living with two different Peruvian families, one for two years, and from experiences with my friends and their relationships with their parents.  Nonetheless, living in Peru has brought my mother´s messages to the forefront in my way of thinking, and contrasts, sometimes glaringly, with the way kids are ¨parented¨ here.

Today's messages are from my teenage years.  Not the easiest time for anyone, and certainly not an easy age to care for as a parent.   I am confident that this will not be the only entry on lessons from my teenage years. 
 
¨Make fun of yourself, not others, if you want to make people laugh.¨

I could not tell you the exact date, or my age when my mom dropped this sage advice on me, but I know I was a teenager.  The theme came up, I´m sure, over dinner or a casual conversation.  My Mom casually mentioned that she doesn´t think making fun of others is ever an appropriate way to make people laugh.  If you want to play the clown, make fun of yourself!  Because when you make fun of someone else, you run the risk of really hurting their feelings, and possibly making yourself look bad for being a jerk.  I remember really taking this to heart throughout high school, where making fun of people is an exercise that runs rampant.  I specifically remember keeping this advice in mind when we moved to Ithaca and I had to make new friends.  I would make jokes about my own incompetence, whether it was in soccer or in school, and try to get a laugh out of these strangers that I wanted to be my friends. 

This advice has become particularly important to me in Peru.  In my experience with my friends and acquaintances, it is a common practice to make fun of everyone at anytime.  Friends constantly rag on each other about their flaws, have nick names like ¨imbecil¨ and ¨stupid¨, admittedly more commonly among boys.  Kids tend to create nick names for each other that have to do with some physical characteristic, whether it be ¨fatty¨, ¨skinny¨, ¨pimply¨, ¨dark skinned¨, ¨white skinned¨, etc.  Recently I heard of a case of a darker skinned girl getting made fun of.  Her classmates were all eating tamales, which have olives in them.  To make fun of the girl, they started joking loudly ¨Oh look, an olive escaped from the tamal!¨ 

This could be harmless, but I don´t think so.  I would love to go in to all of the anthropological and social implications of a comment like this, such as the underlying racism that is still going strong in Peru.  But, mostly I brought it up because it is something I could not ever say myself.  My heart breaks a little every time my friends refer to each other as ¨idiot¨ or ¨fatty¨.  I feel powerless to stop it, and wonder if they are used to these kinds of comments, or if they hold on to a little bit of resentment. 

The downside this lesson has had on me has been that I am sometimes very self critical.   I tend to believe the mantra, ¨whatever you don´t like about another person, is something you don´t like about yourself.¨ Whenever I have a negative thought about anyone, I instantly internalize it as something I must be doing wrong.  I think sometimes I start to internalize my own jokes about myself.  They become part of my inner-dialogue and this can take a nasty turn if I let these negative ideas run away from me.  Fortunately, I have recognized the effect that talking badly about myself can have on me, and I try to avoid it.

¨Hate is a very strong word¨

And it is not a word that should not be taken lightly.  This message changed the way I thought about and used ¨hate¨ forever.  It was a normal day, and I was a ¨normal¨ teenager in the car with a couple of friends while my Mom drove us somewhere.  I imagine was with some of my soccer team teammates, and we were headed to a game, practice or tournament because these were the instances that I passed the most time in a car with my Mom and other teenage girls.

The funny thing about riding in a car with your parents when you are a kid and a teenager, is that you almost forget they are there.  It must have been incredibly hard for my parents on many occasions to not comment, laugh or get angry at our ridiculous ramblings, loud singing, or overly excited chatter.  I remember not giving my Mom´s presence a second thought as my friends and I began to speak viciously about a girl at school.  I must have said how much I ¨hated¨ her, possibly many times, for what I´m sure was a very trivial reason, when my Mom piped in.

¨Carolyn, hate is a very strong word.¨ 

I honestly think that was it.  There was no more explanation or conversation about it.  It was the way she said it.  She sounded exacerbated, like she was trying to control a bubbling frustration with our hateful speech.  I remember going silent.  I think it was as much what she said and how she said it, as it was the feeling that it came out of nowhere.  As I said, I had forgotten anyone was listening to us.  I had a a momentary experience of seeing myself from outside of myself through my Mother´s eyes and realized she was right.  Why were we being so hateful?  Why was I speaking so casually and without a second thought about what it meant?

That single moment changed me.  I would like to say I never used the word ¨hate¨ again in reference to a person.  Of course, using the word ¨never¨ is always risky because I couldn´t honestly promise that I never used it again after that moment.  I have certainly said and thought other nasty things about people throughout my life.  What I do know, is that I am painstakingly conscious of the use of the word ¨hate¨.  I always think to myself, ¨it is a VERY strong word¨ and don´t use it unless I´m sure that is how I feel.

I think this simple motherly comment made a positive impact on me and my outlook and relationship with other people throughout my life.  I think that I try to sincerely evaluate my feelings, positive or negative, towards everyone, and never let my anger or frustration cause me to unfairly ¨hate¨ or even ¨not like¨ a person.  Now, living in Peru, this is particularly important because it is very easy to feel hateful towards someone you don´t know, treating you in a way that you don´t understand because the cultural context is completely different.  I am living in a world where being assertive and even aggressive is expected.  Interrupting people is common and also expected in many cases.  Telling people they are fat when they gain a little weight is completely normal and acceptable.  So you might be able to imagine that feeling negatively towards someone might happen from time to time.  Thankfully, remembering that ¨hate¨ is a strong word, I try to reevaluate my feelings and pinpoint what it is exactly that is bothering me about a person or situation. 

As I said, these are the first two of a series of ¨lessons¨ in life that my Mother has taught me.  Other lessons will be drawn from my childhood years to my early 20´s, and will include lessons on specific themes such as relationships and friendships. 

I leave you today with a recent quote from my Mom when talking to her about applying to grad schools and applying to jobs:

¨Don´t underestimate the power of likability.¨

I love you Mom!