The other weekend, I heard Mom up early and stumbled out of bed to go make her breakfast. Downstairs I went in what I had been sleeping in– some awesome yoga pants covered with animal prints that a good friend of mine gave me several years ago, bare feet and a tank top.
So I started making us pancakes and Mom looked at me and pointed out that I was probably cold. She gets cold easily and to be fair, the winter has been serious lately. But I don’t get cold easily especially since we turn up the heat a lot for Mom. I was cheerfully making my pancakes.
Five minutes later, Mom tried again. She pointed out that I might want to cover up. Her next line was not terribly articulate but seemed to be a comment about women that I took as meaning that I was not appropriately dressed in my tank top. Perish the thought that I should not have done my hair and put on a coordinated outfit before making pancakes for the family!
A moment later she brought up the cold again. This point was not to be dropped.
Silly as it felt to have Mom telling me repeatedly to go get some clothes on, I could not help but appreciate that she still worries about me. It’s her way of continuing to mother me, at least in certain moments. What kind of mother lets her daughter wander about in tank tops and bare feet in the middle of winter?