Friday, November 8, 2013

The Week I spent with my Mother.

Last month I went on a weeklong vacation to San Francisco with my mother.  This was not the first vacation we have been on alone together, nor is this the first time we have been on vacation together for a week, but for some reason this trip was different.  I have always wanted to go to California, it has been a dream of mine for my entire life and for some reason I just never made it out there.  Whatever the case, the timing wasn’t right or I never seemed to find the right company, my dream of California took a backseat as I traveled with friends and boyfriends to other states/countries.  This trip finally happening was a huge deal, and I couldn’t have picked a better travel companion.  I absolutely adore and idolize my mother, she is the most amazing person I have ever met in my life and she is certainly the strongest woman I know.  But, this is not just an idealistic daughter talking, I know a lot of my peers and people who have met her feel the same way.  Despite none of this information being a revelation to me, I still learned a lot about my mother and our relationship in that one week . . . probably more than she realizes.


My mother is a strong woman.  I repeat; my mother is a strong woman.  Not in the sense of physical strength or solely assertiveness, but the fact that she has overcome many situations and never sees the world jaded or differently because of it.  I always hoped to take that trait from her, and I really believe I do.  My mother navigated us through an unfamiliar city, which has its fair share of ‘undesirable’ neighborhoods, with confidence, ease and without the least bit of uncertainty.  As we went from neighborhood to neighborhood stopping at every wine tasting and little boutique we could stumble across, I realized I am much more like my mother than I previously realized.

While we went from place to place as per recommendations of my friends, my mother never questioned or complained, she just went with it and gladly got us there.  When I wanted to go stick my feet in the Pacific Ocean [for the first time ever] despite it being freezing outside and not beach weather at all, my mother was jumping in the ocean with me.  My mother didn’t judge the silly things I do, like splash freezing ocean water all over the place simply because I’ve never been outside the Atlantic, but embraced them and appreciated the rose colored way I see and love the world.  But it is more than her just valuing the way I see it, she also has the free spirit love for beauty of the world that I do.  We went to the California Academy of Science, and my mom stopped and enjoyed every exhibit we went to.  There was never enough information she could soak up, even as we were walking through the small gardens before the Academy, my mom read every statue and sign there was.  I love that about her.

One night my mother and I decided to take the concierge’s advice and try a restaurant in the ‘Little Italy’ section of San Francisco.  Well, what the concierge neglected to tell us was that it was more of a little pizzeria than a restaurant.  Nevertheless, it would be too rude to cancel our reservation, so we sat in the small pizzeria/restaurant at a table for two and browsed the menu.  Out of nowhere some portly, unkempt older man sits down next to us and proceeds to uncomfortably create conversation.  After not getting the hint that we were uninterested in conversing with a stranger who was jamming his dirty hands in our bread, chewing with his mouth open, and hacking up a lung while we were trying to eat our appetizers, he proceeded to move all his belongings from his original table and sit next to us for the remainder of our meals.  While the wait staff was getting quite the giggle out of this awkward encounter, my mother and I dealt with the intrusion the same way . . . more wine!

This was the very meal that made me realize how much my mother and I are the same person.  Despite being disinterested in making a new friend, she continued conversation and didn’t miss a beat or get uncomfortable.  As I sat there ignoring the interactions, I noticed a man with a little yorkie walked in and sat on the other side of us.  Our ‘girls night dinner’ has now become a circus attraction.  After playing with the little dog [I am a sucker for dogs] for a few minutes, the other man, let’s call him Egbert, now decided he too wanted to be in our conversation.  I then found myself trying to pay attention to my mother’s conversation with Mr. Pignati[1], which had now gotten friendlier after the discovery that Mr. Pignati is single, looking for love, and also interested in men. My mother’s new goal for the evening was to get Mr. Pignati to date and find love, after all, this was San Francisco, and no one should be alone forever!

That whole interaction was a scene I could see playing out for myself.  My Friends always laugh because whenever we go out, I make a new friend.  It doesn’t matter how creepy or bizarre the person is, I always have a good story, and apparently that is a trait I got from my mother!

Throughout our dinner, Mr. Pignati and Egbert became our dinner guests, albeit competing against each other for attention.  Egbert was an older man, skinny, covered in jewelry, long gray hair slicked back, motorcycle helmet in tow (although all I saw outside was a cheesy vespa) and this little female yorkie with a pink bow in here hair.  Much to my dismay and confusion, Egbert was not interested in men; he was just a 1960’s ‘free love’ kind of flowerchild.  Although I pride myself on being a free spirit, Egbert gave me the creeps and I would’ve much preferred to stay chatting it up with Mr. Pignati.  A few creepy comments from Egbert with retaliation from me caught my mom’s ear and she whipped out the ‘Brooklyn/Italian/Overprotective Momma Bear’ attitude.  Yet another realization that my mother and I are the same person, because I get that same kind of protective crazy when I feel my family[2] are being threatened [or just really annoyed.]

A few glasses of wine and champagne down, our entrees and desserts finished, and memories to last us a lifetime, my mother and I departed the restaurant.  I do not remember that dinner just because two creepy old men were trying to scam on me and my mom, but I remember it because my mother and I sat in a quiet boring little restaurant and had ourselves a party, making tons of new friends.  We had the entire kitchen staff out talking to us, the owners of the restaurant and their family telling us their story, and of course our two dinner guests from other tables.  Much like myself, my mother is a people person and brings the party wherever she goes.  There is no reason in living a boring life, especially when you can make every mundane activity interesting.

I couldn’t think of anyone better to be so similar to other than my mother.  She absolutely is my best friend; She understands me, knows why I am the way I am, and appreciates me.  Now, it can be argued that these are just traits of being a mother and feeling that way about your children is natural, but the admiration, understand and appreciation is reciprocated, which isn’t always the case between paternal and offspring relationships.  One simple weeklong vacation meant more to me than could’ve previously been predicted, and will be filled with memories I hold for a very long time.



[1] This name has been changed to protect said portly man’s identity, and yes, it is from a book.
[2] Friends are family too

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