If It's Not One Thing, It's Your Mother

I spent the morning arguing politics with my mom. Over an hour on the phone we bicker, site sources and quote people making our point, counter-points. At the end of the heated debate we say we love each other and hang up. The last thing I say,"I'm done teaching you today. We'll continue this tomorrow." Laughing my mom says she misses me before she puts the phone back on it's cradle. It's what we do. I call my mom at least 4 times a week, sometimes everyday, sometimes we tell each other stories of what is happening in our lives, sometimes we reminisce about the past, and sometimes we argue to the death over political differences.
My mom is reticent to admit when she is wrong, which is where I come in full force and tell her she is. She laughs at me frequently when I correct her and remind her that she is growing more feeble everyday. The truth is my mom could move mountains if that is truly what she wanted. I do think sometimes she is frustrated that the mountains would yield, but her youngest child refuses. I am a formidable foe for my mother because she raised me. I am just as stubborn, just as determined and just as smart. That really peeves my mother the most, the fact that she grew the very person who now stands toe to toe with her.
Politics make strange bedfellows, but even stranger family members. My parents are dyed in the wool Republicans. I am an estranged Republican who has distanced herself from any party and now refers to myself as a Humanitarian. I am all about people first. Call yourself anything you want as far as I am concerned, but if the people of your country are suffering at your hand, you are not anyone I would follow. That statement goes for both sides.
My parents tend to think my "ignorance" comes from my youth. It's literally the only time anyone calls me young and inexperienced, which is probably why I still fight with them. I say they are old and out of touch. Round and round we go back and forth arguing well strategical political points about where the other is completely off their rocker. Dad usually caves pretty early on due to he would rather do anything else than argue, without a resolution. Mom and I being women, can do it all day long, without so much as a potty break.
I love the humor in it all. One minute we arguing health care, the next my mom is talking about the neighbors garden, and how the strawberries are coming up. We argue some more when I tell her the garbage man almost knocked me over when I went out to get the can, which then leads to a heated discussion about city and state paid workers, which leads to unions which leads to another heated debate. That's the thing about my mom, she is agile enough to go back and forth without missing a beat, which for an old lady is very impressive.(I just wrote that to see if she reads this)
Mom and I have a complex relationship. We are not a stereotypical mother/daughter relationship. That is of our own doing. I could have stayed the child in my moms eyes, but it isn't what I wanted. It isn't what she wanted either. I grew up, had my own family, made my own decisions without asking her permission. There have been a million things she has actively and loudly disagreed with me on. Too many, in fact to list. I have the relationship I do with her because I am strong, independent and run my life the way I see fit.
One day I was thinking out loud about the second book and talking with my mom. "I want it to be just a little edgier. I feel the first book is good on it's own, but I want to work at being just slightly more me and a little less 'nice'." I waited for my mom to say not to swear in the next book, or to maintain the kindness level, or to encourage me to be polite. That is the standard lecture series I have gotten all my life so I figured this was the perfect occasion for her to pull it out. As I paused for her rebuttal, I steeled myself for the next installment of the never ending debate club. "I think you should write what YOU think is best. I trust your instincts." I sat a little stunned by the completely supportive role my mom had taken, not because she has never been supportive, but I had really thought she would argue the point with me. "MOM! MOM! Are you there? Someone else has cut into our line and I think I may have lost you!" "Very funny, Smart-ass." My mom says flatly, nonplussed by my attempt at humor. When it comes to my writing my mom gives me as much rope as I say I can handle. She patiently awaits for the next chapter to come her way, me usually making fun of her, family or myself. The only near critical thing she has ever said about my writing was, "I'm in this chapter, too? Don't you have someone else you can pick on?" "Nope. You are my comedy gold." Mom laughs and reads on. At the end of reading she will tell me, "I am so happy I was able to give you so much entertainment." "Not just me. Just think, your antics are around the world now! My readers thank you for being exactly who you are." "Ohhhh" my mother groans. "Hey, speaking of the world..." my mom then moves on to a hot topic in world relations that sparks yet another argument. As we battle on, I pause for just a second to smile thinking how my mom said she trusted my instincts. In that second I realize I won the biggest battle of all.
I won a place as her friend, as well as being her child.