When You Find Yourself

-- Inspired by a family member-sadly --

"When You Find Yourself"

Dear Mother

When you find yourself
Look around you
See if it's nice there
Where you ended up

See if everyone there
Tells you what a good mother you are
Because God knows
You don't get enough of that
Back here

Back here
I expected too much of you
I demanded things like...

Time
Energy
Excitement

Perhaps my Crayola masterpieces
Weren't enough to keep you interested
How could they compete with whole galleries
Featuring nude paintings of you
Done by artists half your age
With mothering complexes

I suppose that at my age
The age you were
When you had me
I should be more understanding
Of you and your subpar parenting

But to be honest
I'm less sympathetic now
Than I've ever been

Because now I know
Where all the exit doors are

The Don't Fall in Love With a Moron Door
The Don't Get Pregnant By a Moron Door
The Don't Mope and Sulk When the Moron Leaves You Door
The Don't Blame Your Child For Your Bad Luck Door

So many doors
And which one did you take?

The Find Yourself Door

I know that every self-help guru
And single gal pal of yours
Told you that you were right
In wanting to discover yourself

That it would make you a better mother
To become a more well-rounded person

That going to Paris
And spending too much on designer clothing
And sending postcards when you felt like it
That Grandma had to throw out
Because you wrote them when you were drunk
And occasionally you could actually smell the liquor
Mixed in with the cardboard and the perfume

I'm sure you thought all of that
Was important
Because you were becoming
An intelligent, sophisticated
Renaissance Woman

Well

Though I hate to burst
That lovely Parisian bubble
I feel I must

I

Didn't

Give

A

Flying

Fuck

If

You

Were

Well

Rounded

I wanted a mother
Not a well-rounded mother
I wanted a 50's mother

I wanted fresh baked cookies
I wanted rides in the station wagon
I wanted goodnight kisses

I had NO interest
In a sophisticated woman
None

No child
Wants
A socially fulfilled mother

The trick to being a mother
Is to have no life
And SMILE ANYWAY

I didn't need you constantly happy
I just needed you there

Oh, I know what you're thinking
As you read this
In your flat in London
With Jeof with an 'O'
A man young enough to be MY son
Lounging beside you

You're wondering why I'm putting all the blame on you
Why none of it is going to Dad

Well here's why

Because people expect men to make lousy fathers
Men have been making lousy fathers since the dawn of time
Some turn out all right
But when they don't
Mothers are supposed to pick up the slack

Is that fair?
No
But guess what
You had a child
Not an umpire
Nobody said 'fair' was in the playing cards

Women are supposed to have an instinct for mothering
And you, my dear matriarch, had NONE

Even I, a reformed spinster, when passing a stray cat
Will take it to the nearest shelter
You'd probably look at it
And wonder what kind of coat you could turn it into

I don't blame Daddy
Because I didn't spend nine months
INSIDE OF HIM

That should mean something to you

It's not that I don't hate him
It's just that I don't think of him at all
Whereas you
You I think of ALL THE TIME

I've thought of you in Morocco
Sunning yourself on a beach in Rio
Tasting fine wine in Napa
All the while hoping to find yourself

And now you're in London
And I hear it's dreary there
This time of year
And it's lovely here
But you still can't bear to be here
Because here is where I am

Here is where reality is
And that fits you
About as well
As those skirts you still try to pull off

I'm so sorry
That I am a constant reminder
Of your failure

I'm so sorry
That I couldn't be more intriguing
That I couldn't be the Sally Bowles of daughters
That I couldn't be sweet enough to raise myself
That I couldn't figure out how to chase you
At the ripe old age of thirteen

I apologize, Mother

Oh, and as a little pre-post-script
I'd like you to know
That I recently entered a door of my own

The 'Have the Baby' Door

Not with a Moron either
But with a good old-fashioned idiot
A one-night stand
That is about to last me
Eighteen years

It would be cliche to say
That I will be a better mother than you
A hamster that eats its young
Is a better mother than you
Because at least she does it
So that the child won't have to suffer through life
Because it's blind or an eight-year-old
Has unwittingly touched it

Yes, I will be a better mother
And in the bargain
I will become a lousy person

Not interesting
Not stimulating
Not full of interesting party fodder

I will be boring, Mother
And believe me
I can't wait

So though I know you're still searching
Looking for yourself
In every crack and cranny
The world has to offer

I'd like to present you
With a scenario

Imagine that when you find yourself
You won't like what you find very much
Because at the end of the day, Mother
'Yourself' is just your past and your choices
And you haven't done very well in either area
Now have you?

I'm not sure I could ever love you, Mother
Forgiveness I can give
Because I don't want my child
Living inside the same body
As my hate and bitterness
But any love I have
Has got to go to her

That being said
She might have some love in her for you
Or maybe not
But I'd still like you to entertain the idea

Of coming back
And finding out

Sincerely
Your Daughter