Don't you use that tone of voice with me!

This was mom’s warning shot over the bow. When I was a child, I’d never have the nerve to physically challenge my mother. On the other hand, I could let her know by how I said what I said what my real feelings were.

“Uh, yeah. I don’t think so, mom.”

“Well, duh!”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

The challenge is issued. The battle is joined: “Don’t you use that tone of voice with me.” Warning! Warning, Will Robinson! The next step in the interaction would be either escalation (“Go to your room!”) or a standoff, with neither of us yielding to or claiming victory over the other.

Frankly, my voice is always annoying. It’s whiny and generally has an edge to it. I’ve heard it when I have to listen to interviews I’ve taped. I’ve also heard it coming out of the mouth of both of my boys. Oh, how the worm has turned.

Now I’m the one in my mother’s position. I’m not as eloquent or specific as she was, though. I usually stick with saying, “You’d better watch yourself,” and excellent eye contact.

The whole authority thing that both my parents made seem so effortless is really costing me. I have to appear as if I always know what I’m doing and as if I am always in charge. If you have kids, you’re aware that they’re incredibly alert for any weakness on the parents’ part. In my case, the situation is a bit more urgent. I am 5 ft 5 in. Both of my sons are now taller than I am. At this point, they're probably able to bounce me on my head if they want.

However, for years I've been working on “the look.” In fact, while I was taking kenpo karate, I used it on the instructor. He was trying to impress on us that body language can be a powerful defense. So I assumed "the look" and stalked over to him. He took a step back. Whoa. And this guy is a 10th degree black belt. So maybe that means that I'm a master of "the look." Awesome!

The wrath of mom

Don’t you roll your eyes at me! Oh, you’re in big trouble, young man!

f Ralphie’s mom, “A Christmas Story”

There is no one in the world who can push your buttons more effectively and with more ease than your sweet little children. You know what I’m saying. Before I had kids I found the expression “you’re working on my last nerve” to be kind of odd. I just couldn’t relate. Now I have two sons. Now, not only can I relate, I can almost see that one last nerve, fraying and sending out sparks that threaten to touch off a conflagration that will only be extinguished after a lot of sound and fury.

When I overhear parents say that they’ve never lost their temper with their children, I snort (usually, but not always) to myself and shake my head. It is not possible to live closely with another human being and not lose it once in a while. Seriously.

I was very skilled at pushing my mother over the edge. To this day I’m thankful that my parents didn’t have a fondness for firearms. We did have a “spanking stick,” a fat dowel that my mom would figuratively hold over the heads of my brother and me (“I’m going to get the spanking stick.” “Do you want me to get the spanking stick?” “Am I going to have to get the spanking stick?”). However, I honestly don’t remember ever having our family’s disciplinary tool of choice applied to my butt. Hmm. Maybe I blocked it out?

My preferred method of dealing with a rampaging mother was to bolt out the back door. I knew that she wouldn’t chase me through the yard and that by the time I came back inside, hours later, if I did it right, she would have calmed down enough to just send me to my room and not shake me silly.

Still, it doesn't pay to underestimate the wrath of my mom. My two sons are bright except when it comes to knowing that I'm about to have a nuclear meltdown. Hell, even the dogs run and hide. But maybe it's a good thing that da boyz aren't cluing in. There's nothing like having to explain to them how to discern that I'm about to lose it to help relieve some of the pressure.

Do you want to know why? I'll tell you why!

“Those idiots! They’re letting her build up a head of steam!” Fred or George Weasley, the twins in the Harry Potter books, said something like this on overhearing their mother tearing someone a new one.

There comes a point in every mother’s rant where she just switches on the autopilot and lets things rip. When the rhetorical questions start being asked, you’d better not try to answer them. You’d better just hunker down and get ready for the storm that’s about to break over you.

Hamlet had his soliloquy. Mom has her rhetorical questions. Neither asked for nor needed a response. Both needed to let go and vent.

Know what? The storm itself never lasts too long. Do you know why psychiatrists schedule 50-minute sessions? It is impossible for us to maintain the intensity of our emotions for longer than this. Really. You can try it for yourself, if you feel the need to let it all hang out. You’ll feel wrung out like a sponge—and refreshed.

You might want to warn your loved ones not to interrupt you, though. And do you want to know why? I’ll tell you why …

Your face is going to freeze that way

Sometimes mom’s warnings had the reverse effect. This is one of them.

When you’re mad, aggravated, frustrated, or otherwise full of attitude, you’re hateful contrary, and you’re going to respond to your mom as if she’d just dared you.

Besides, how cool would it be to have your eyes or your face freeze? Calvin (of Calvin and Hobbes) tried really hard, naturally, but it didn’t work. Oh, the disappointment!

Let’s face facts: Kids can make whatever faces they want, and they won’t leave even the faintest mark. I used to practice frowning to see how deep I could make the crevices between my eyebrows. To my dismay, the lines disappeared without a trace as soon as I relaxed. How in the world would I be taken seriously if I didn’t have some serious frown lines? My first summer of lifeguard duty took care of the whole baby-smooth skin issue, let me tell you.

But you know what? Mom really was on the up and up on this one. Sooner or later your attitude will show up on your face for the whole world to see. Are you a sourpuss? Well, you'll end up with a sour puss. Are you a Cranky McCrankypants? Then you'll wind up viewing life from behind a cranky, creaky, crinkly face. You don’t need to apply the “loser” symbol to your forehead for the world to know you are one: over time, your face will make it all too clear.

Once upon a time I worked with a woman who had a cynical, know-it-all attitude toward everything and everyone. Her face was deeply grooved from her nose clear down to her chin, showing that she spent far too much time showing her disdain. I also knew another woman who spent most of her life in sunny southern California. Her face was a mass of wrinkles; however, those wrinkles were an exquisite representation of her sunny disposition. Laugh  lines fanned out from the corners of her eyes, and the creases that bracketed her mouth, echoed by smaller lines over her cheeks, showed just how much time she spent smiling and laughing. Beautiful!

Does this mean if you’re pissed off you should smile or if you’re happy you should keep a poker face? Nope, I don’t think so. The Botox biz is booming precisely because people are afraid of showing what they feel … that they feel. A smooth face is a bland face. Feel what you feel and show what you feel. Just keep in mind that what you feel, your overall demeanor, will sooner or later make itself evident and your face really will "freeze that way."

Doctor mom

I have found that no kisses can ever compare to “mom” kisses,

because mom kisses can heal anything. You can have a hangnail,

a broken heart, or catatonic schizophrenia;

with moms, one kiss and you’re fine.

f Robert G. Lee

F

rom the day your mom brings you home from the hospital, she’s always on alert for hurts, illness, and anything out of the norm when it comes to your health. Especially with her first child, a mother is an acute observer of everything that goes into, comes out of, and comes in contact with her precious little snowflake.

I’m sure I’m not the only mother to have called the pediatrician because the baby’s poop looked funny or didn’t show up as often as expected. I’ve heard constipation defined as “not having bowel movements as your mother thinks you should.” I don’t know who originally said that, but I’m going to have to agree.

One of my favorite rituals was the way my mother checked for fever.

“I don’t feel good, mom.”

“Oh? Come here and let me check and see if you have a fever.”

I’d walk over to her, most likely slumping and trying to look sick and pitiful. Mom would smooth my bangs over to the side and press her cheek to my forehead while gently holding my face between her hands. For that brief moment I knew I had 100% of my mother’s attention and love. I could feel the warmth of her hands and cheek and could smell her scent. That alone was wonderful medicine. And today I administer the same medicine to my children.

I’ve always thought that the best place to be if I was sick would be wherever my mother was. No, I don’t wish I were a child again. I just like the idea of being the center of my mother’s universe. And the funny thing is, I know that if she could be with me whenever I was sick, she would take care of me as only a mom can.

About 10 days before my wedding, a guy rear-ended my car, totaling it and giving me whiplash. When I called my mother the next day and told her about it, she said—and I swear that this is the truth—“Don’t worry. Your mother is on her way.” And she was, too. She’d had her tickets East for a couple of months by that point. Still, it was wonderful to know that mom was on the job.

No one said life is fair

Life can be so unfair. You’re the better student, but someone else is picked as the star pupil. Your older brother or sister is allowed to stay up later than you are. The last of your favorite cereal just vanished.

“It’s not fair!” you whine to mom.

“No one said life is fair, honey,” is her standard response.

Welcome to the world, honey. You can whine and throw a tantrum, but there’s nothing mom can—or will—do to fix things to your liking. That’s not to say, though, that some won’t try, as in these bona fide examples torn from the headlines ...

• Some super-genius banned the game of tag from an elementary school’s playground because being tagged “it” could be damaging to a child’s self-esteem.
•  A school district suggested that purple is a friendlier color than red for marking papers.
•  Another district suggested replacing the term “failure” with “delayed success.”

Oh, please. Life is not fair, and kids--and some adults, too--need to learn this important lesson.

And guess what? Just because you grabbed the short stick this time doesn’t mean that you won’t grab the brass ring next time.