Mother May I? : Even When You’re Grown Up, That Little Voice You Keep Hearing Is Mom’s

Look at you. Still in your pajamas reading the paper. Probably haven’t even brushed your teeth either. Or made your bed, or washed last night’s dishes . . . .

Ah, yes, Mother’s words. Even when she is not there to say them, they echo through our lives.

A 29-year-old lawyer with children of her own decides how much makeup to wear by asking, “What would Mother say?” A 40ish communications executive anticipates what mother will say and gets a haircut whenever she comes to visit.

How is it that some mothers are able to dictate dress codes, moral codes, even lifestyles, from 3,000 miles away? And why do otherwise well-adjusted adult children let them?

Mothers might say, “Because I’m the mother.”

But psychologists offer different explanations. Children might be stuck in development, for one thing. Healthy adults, says Oakland psychologist Teresa Peck, outgrow most mommy-pleasing behaviors. And, once their children are grown, she adds, mothers ought to let go of some of their mommying ways.

Of course, that’s not always possible, concedes Peck, who has had what she calls a “rocky” relationship with her own mother, whom she describes as “overprotective.”

Mothers, after all, will be mothers. . . .

When her only child was born, Margaret Mead learned what most mothers know: You not only want the best for your child, you want your child to be the best.

With the birth of daughter Mary Catherine Bateson, the famed anthropologist wrote, “I discovered I had become a biased observer of small children . . . I saw each of them as older or younger, bigger or smaller, more or less graceful, intelligent, or skilled than my own child.”

Although few children are perfect, mothers might nevertheless cling to that notion for as long as they live.

And while waiting, she may offer a few suggestions:

“Do you actually like your living room arranged that way?” a mother casually asks her newly married daughter.

“Why, yes--yes, I do,” answers the daughter, who by now doesn’t like the room one bit.

Giving advice--even in such backhanded fashion--comes naturally to mothers, suspects author Lois Wyse, who believes, “Advice is in the genes like blue eyes and red hair.”

Yet, psychologist and author Florence Kaslow says some of her angriest and saddest patients are those who don’t receive maternal advice. These are people who believe their parents pay them too little attention.

“ ‘They don’t care about me, they’re selfish, they don’t love me,’ these people complain,” says Kaslow. “If you are a good parent, you probably are going to err on the side of being over-protective, over-possessive, over-intrusive.”

And against such errors, even age is no defense:

“But Ma, I know what I’m doing. I’m 35 years old!”

“I know exactly how old you are. I was there the day you were born!”

Nancy Friday, famous for writing an entire book about getting along with Mother, believes mothers have very much to share with their children. What bothers her is the manner in which they do it.

In her bestseller “My Mother, My Self,” Friday wrote: “Mother has an uncanny way of thinking that if she doesn’t tell us about something, we will never find out, that she is our only source of information.”

While children need their mothers to teach them about the world while they are young, motherhood can give birth to know-it-all-hood later in life.

There is no question, for example, that Ernest Hemingway was devastated by his mother’s sorry opinions of his writing.

When Grace Hall Hemingway told her son that she and her lady friends were disgusted and appalled by “The Sun Also Rises,” Ernest did not communicate with his mother for months. But when he finally resumed writing to her, Ernie was full of apology.

“I could not help being angry,” Hemingway explained. “(But) it is quite natural for you not to like the book and I regret your reading any book that causes you pain or disgust.”

Still anxious to please, he added, “I have been drinking nothing but my usual wine or beer with meals, have been leading a very monastic life and trying to write as well as I am able.”

Children have a history of stormy relationships with their mothers. Some worse than others: Lizzie Borden, for example.

But in today’s victimization-conscious society, mothers and fathers are being blamed for every definable dysfunction, real or imagined.

While fathers are gaining ground, mothers continue to be held accountable for much of what children don’t like about themselves or their lives.

A San Francisco artist whines that she always wanted to play the piano but never learned how because, as a child, her mother wouldn’t give her lessons. “I do believe it is one of the greatest disappointments in my life,” she sniffs today.

A Washington, D.C., retailer says she has spent the last three decades rebelling against her mother. “Still,” she says, “I cannot bring myself to put as much as a bobby pin in my hair because my mother always told me I looked silly in bows and barrettes.”

“There is a need to be able to think somebody else is responsible for what is happening to you,” says psychologist Peck. “Because mothers are the primary caretakers, there may be more emphasis on them.”

Freud’s Oedipal notions of daddy-daughter, mommy-son love might apply here, but researchers have found that men seem to have at least as many problems with their mothers as women do.

A Pittsburgh newspaper recently surveyed male readers for a report on the state of modern chivalry. When asked what they would do if they were on a sinking Titanic II, only 54% of the men said they would give up their lifeboat seats for their mothers. (A slightly higher percentage said they would cede their seats to wives.)

Such findings hurt but don’t surprise mothers who feel underappreciated.

“I think mothers of all ages should get more adoration than they do,” says Elinor Gould of Chicago. She has four grown children and a history of leaving home (if only for a few hours) every Mother’s Day.

“I want to be appreciated each and every day of the year for all I do and have done for my sons and daughter,” says Gould. “Motherhood is the hardest work a woman will ever do, and one day is not enough thanks.”