Coffee is healthy! Don't you know that?

Sunday morning:

Mom: Coffee can help battle Alzheimer's.

Mom: Haven't you read anything about how healthy coffee is?

A.: I. Don't. Like. Coffee. Are you not sick of this conversation. [Turns to Dad]; Are you not sick of this conversation?

Dad: I'm not the target of this conversation.

A.: Mom, we have this conversation every time we see each other. I don't like coffee.

Mom: How can you not like coffee? There are all kinds of coffees... cappuccino...

A.: I don't like coffee.

***

My roommate, Kevin, likes ties. I brought him one from Sydney, wasn't sure whether he would like it, but it was an 'I was thinking of you' gift that came with a gift card to Trader Joe's as a 'thanks for taking care of my cat' gift. To my surprise, he seemed to really like the tie, I would venture to believe he actually did. My mom, apparently less naive.

A.: Well, Kevin seems to have really liked the tie.
Mom: He could just be saying that, you know.

***

A.: Could you zip this up for me, please? [Trying on a bridesmaid's dress that arrived while I was away; I'll have to wear it in less than a month].
Mom: I don't like it. It's ugly.
A.: Okay.
Mom: It's not zipping. You've gained weight.
A.: Could you try to zip it? It was actually a bit big when I tried it in the shop.
Mom: Right, you've gotten fatter.
Mom: I don't like the dress.
A.: Okay.

***

A.: Ooh, can we stop at Crate & Barrel Outlet?
Mom: Why would you want to do that? We have all the kitchen stuff you could possibly need.

***

I hugged my parents goodbye before went to work on Tuesday.

Mom: Won't you be hot in those shoes?
A.: No.
Mom: I think you'll get hot.

Mom, mid-hug: You HAVE gained weight.

***

Have I told you about how, in addition to listing my childhood failings, my mom likes to tell me the story about how when I was a little, all the other kids on the swing set would push themselves but I would just sit there and wait for her to push me? I believe I told it in the context of claiming that there would have been more constructive ways to change my behavior than by retelling the story. Anyway, I invoke it here in a different context.

If you look back at any or many of the other blogs, you'll notice a tendency to micromanage and coddle. It hit me-- the pattern did-- in Australia, where E. and her husband, out of concern and care, mind you, did everything to almost literally and actually metaphorically spoon-feed me. I won't go into more detail here.

I sometimes criticize myself for not being independent enough, for not being enough a lot of things, etc., but when I look back on my upbringing (much of which was happy and conducive to healthy adulthood), I think it's a wonder I've ever had an independent thought in my life. It's a wonder I push myself on swings (well, I would, if swings didn't give me motion sickness), buy my own socks and kitchen stuff, navigate the food on my plate, visit places not endorsed ahead of time by my parents, don't drink coffee, etc.

I know you're here for amusing dialogue, not self-analysis, but I have to bring this home: I think what saved me is that my mother overreached. She didn't (doesn't) coddle me just enough so that I was happily coddled-- she tries to control most things I do, based on the belief that she knows what's best for me more than I ever could, in terms of food, socks, vacation spots, job, etc. That's not sustainable. I've talked about how I realized fast that it would be impossible to do everything the way my mother wanted me to, and that I'd be set for life if everything she wanted was everything that I wanted, but that wasn't the case, so I had to learn to fend for myself. I'm just saying, I know I don't have everything figured out and I only recently learned to change my tires (car and bike both) and there's a lot I don't know how to do, but looking back, there are moments when I'm glad that I can tie my own shoes. I guess what it comes down to is that they mean well.