All over the world, mothers are fielding endless, mundane, stream of consciousness texts from their adult children.
At this moment, my mom has missed 3 calls and 4 texts from me and I’m deeply annoyed!
Understandably, I feel a sense of entitlement to wasting her time with my every thought. If I can’t waste my mom’s time with what I think about almond butter’s texture, whose can I waste America?
When we’re children, we’re obsessed with our moms. When we’re teens, we’re practically repelled by them. Then, as an adult, usually around the time we start having our own kids, we become obsessed again. 
I remember when I lived in Cali, my back went out and I was debating going to the doctor. My mom was at a funeral service and I called her at least 946 times trying to get her opinion on whether I should go or just take an Advil. I wasn’t trying to be insensitive, it was an emergency!
My mom didn’t have this kind of relationship with her mother, but instead of embracing the brokenness of where she came, she healed that part of herself so she could be that kind of mom with me. Over the years, she’s mentored young women who have broken or non-existent mothers and even though it may not be exactly the same, they know she’s there and open to dumb, mundane texts – and that really means something. 
I know so many of us are ready for a revolution, but I try to remember that it starts right here, with the comfort and familiarity of the mundane. Loving someone until they know they can text you their thoughts, even dumb ones, without worry.
We all have an opportunity to be the mom we need to someone else. The best part is we don’t have to give birth, we just have to be available.


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