Without fail, my momma had the perfect advice for any situation, be it boys, friends, school or life in general. She was amazingly tolerant and beyond patient, despite my insistence at blasting the song "Parents Just Don't Understand" from behind my bedroom door. I feel that she truly did try to understand and do her best to steer me in the right direction.
My only complaint is that she obviously didn’t pass these traits on to me.
The realization that I am not the wise lady that my momma is came to me as I was cooking pizza the other night. It was pepperoni, but acceptable as a meal since it was also covered in mushrooms (they are a vegetable, right?). My 13 year old son was “starving to death” and asked if he could eat a banana to hold him over. I, of course, told him he could wait for dinner.
He laughed at me.
“Seriously?” he asked. “You don’t want me to eat a piece of fruit because it might ruin my appetite for greasy pizza with almost no nutritional value?”
Somewhere in my mind it made sense, and I honestly didn’t understand his confusion over the matter. Nor did I appreciate his tone of voice. My momma, no doubt, would have enlightened him in a way that would have made both Yoda and Gandhi drop their jaws in awe, but the answer to his obviously trick question escaped me. But fear not, I managed to maintain my parental superiority by sticking my tongue out at him and walking away.