When my Daughter finally got back to campus in August, she had a lot of readjusting to do. She was living with roommates and not parents. She was adjusting to doing things in person once again, and she had a lot on her plate. Plus, COVID still had restrictions all over the place with certain things.
Her schedule included five classes, and one class that required her to go to an elementary school to observe onsite. She had an internship. Part time job. Deputy editor at the paper. At least two other clubs she was an active member. Some sort of scholar program. Homework. And President of a volunteer organization that wasn’t able to recruit new members last year because it wasn’t able to be done virtually, and they were still unsure of the status this year as to whether the university students would be allowed to go onsite to actually do the volunteering, and seemed like it was going to be an organization of three.
So August was a tad stressful for my daughter.
I was on the phone with her one morning as she explained everything to me. I heard her voice rise about five octaves. I made a suggestion about something.
One suggestion about one thing after she regaled me with tales of all the above things I mentioned, the stress clearly coming through on the phone.
I said one thing…
She bit my head off. Told me that she was an adult. Told me that my making the suggestion was making her more stressed. Told me I needed to butt out and not meddle.
OK fine. I dropped it.
Later that day, I was standing on the subway platform.
Young woman, late twenties probably, was waiting for the train, which was six minutes away.
Woman gets a phone call.
Woman: Hi Mom.
Woman: Yeah the apartment was really nice.
Women: Well, it’s a little small but…
See her walking in circles
Women: No its not a shoebox it’s…
She starts to tap her foot
Women: No there isn’t a window in the bathroom or kitchen but…
looking down track waiting for train to appear quicker
Women: But Mom it’s the best apartment I’ve found
runs her hand through her hair distractedly
Women: Yes I would love an apartment with big closets and lots of windows but…
look of pure distress
Women: But Mom...
Women: Oh Mom- there’s the train. Need to go.
She shuts her phone and waits three more minutes for train.
So my question is: Do Mom’s always try to give unneeded or unwarranted advice? Is it just hardwired into being a Mom?
Can we just not help ourselves?
Do Mothers always feel they need to tell there children what to do? Is it worse with Mothers and Daughters?