Ohhhhh...Mother

Is it written in the ancient texts that the realtionships between mothers and daughters be so damn HARD?!? Now don't get me wrong, I love my mother, and for the most part I actually LIKE my mother, but that woman can whip me into a frothy frenzy like no one else. She's a gold medalist when it comes to pushing my buttons. It has a lot to do with the criticism...the questioning...the second guessing per se. Yes mother...I have a jacket in the car for the boys...Yes mother...I remembered to pay their tuition...Yes mother...Yes mother...YES!!! I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "This girl needs some boundries!", and you may be right, I may need to work on protecting my borders a bit more efficiently, but it's...complicated. My mom, bless her heart, also did some time as a single mom and one of the by-products of that was our titanium clad mother-daughter bond. Our closeness was one of my best assets through pre and early puberty (thanks for the visit to the Clinique counter for my first set of make-up and the frank conversation about birth control), but quickly became one of my main sources of anger and resentment as I tried to navigate my own way through life. This means that more often than not my mother has been my albatross and my lighthouse at exactly the same time.