My mailbox is full again this week – this virus is keeping people at home with nothing much to do, except pester me. But I did feel for this bloke:
I am a grown man in my fifties with a good job, a wife and two kids finishing school and a mortgage nearly paid off. When I go to visit my dear old Mum, she yells at me like I’m still seven and complains about my job, my wife, the way my wife irons my shirts and the way she feeds me. I’m sick of it – what should I do?
I have only bad news for you. There is very little you can do and it is likely to get worse. The Boss says that every 80 year-old mother looks at her 60 year-old son, hoping for signs of promise.
I suppose you have sought my advice because of my frequent complaints about my Mum, Queenie – but if you think I have any easy answers, you would be wrong.
As you know, she is quite a bit smaller than me but still pushes me around and tries to stay on top of me all the time. And she reminds me of it at every opportunity.
She watches my every move in case she can see an opening - another way to put me down.
Like, we have some rough and tumble together every day, maybe twice or three times and we both like it – but she can’t help taking that extra hard nip, pretending it’s an accident.
And if I nip back just as hard, she’s not past ripping a piece out of my ear.
She likes to show how she’s smarter than me too. If The Boss tosses me a ball and I don’t see where it lands, she’ll be there in a flash, pointing it out to me.
And then, guess what happens when The Boss throws us a couple of balls to fetch across the river? Whenever she can get away with it, she will try and grab my ball as well – and not let go until she drops them at the feet of The Boss.
So she’s a smarty-pants too, lording it over me.
This is what mothers do to their sons, in my experience. This is what is happening to you too. She will never give you the satisfaction of thinking you’re quite good enough for her.
The Boss insists his mum does none of this stuff and is a saint – so he’s either a lucky man or lying. For you and me, we just have to suck it up.
You can write to me at firstname.lastname@example.org. Answers could take a while. Woof!