"Someday I will have a son"

Someday I'll have a son, and I'll do the opposite. I will repeat to him from the age of three: "Darling! You don't have to become an engineer. You don't have to be a lawyer. It doesn't matter who you become when you grow up. Do you want to be a pathologist? To your health! A football commentator? You are welcome! A clown at the mall? Great choice!"

And on his thirtieth birthday, he will come to me, this sweaty balding clown with streaks of makeup on his face, and say: "Mom! I'm thirty years old! I'm a clown at the mall! Is this the life you wanted for me? What were you thinking, Mom, when you told me that higher education is not necessary? What did you want, Mom, when you let me play with the boys instead of math?"

And I'll say, "Honey, but I followed you in everything, I didn't want to put pressure on you! You didn't like math, you loved playing with the younger guys." And he will say: "I didn't know what it would lead to, I was a child, I couldn't decide anything, and you, you, you broke my life" — and rubbed a dirty sleeve lipstick on my face. And then I'll get up, look at him carefully and say, "So that's it. There are two types of people in the world: some live, and the second are looking for the guilty. And if you don't understand that, then you're an idiot."

He will say, "Ah!" and faint. Psychotherapy will take about five years.

Or not so. Someday I'll have a son, and I'll do the opposite. I will tell him from the age of three: "Don't be an idiot, Vladik, think about the future. Learn math, Vladik, if you don't want to be a call center operator all your life."

And on his thirtieth birthday, he will come to me, this sweaty balding programmer with deep wrinkles on his face, and say: "Mom! I'm thirty years old. I work at Google. I work twenty hours a day, Mom. I don't have a family. What were you thinking, Mom, when you said that a good job would make me happy? What were you trying to achieve, Mom, when you forced me to learn math?"

And I'll say, "Darling, but I wanted you to get a good education! I wanted you to have every opportunity, dear." And he'll say, "What the hell do I need these opportunities for if I'm unhappy, Mom? I walk past the clowns at the mall and I envy them, Mom. They are happy. I could be in their place, but you, you, you broke my life" — and rubs the bridge of his nose with his fingers under his glasses. And then I'll get up, look at him carefully and say, "So that's it. There are two types of people in the world: one lives, and the other complains all the time. And if you don't understand that, then you're an idiot."

He'll say, "Oh!" and faint. Psychotherapy will take about five years.

Or in another way. Someday I'll have a son, and I'll do the opposite. I will repeat to him from the age of three: "I'm not here to repeat something. I'm here to love you. Go to Dad, dear, ask him, I don't want to be extreme again."

And on his thirtieth birthday, he will come to me, this sweaty balding director with a Central Russian longing in his eyes, and say: "Mom! I'm thirty years old. I've been trying to get your attention for thirty years, Mom. I have dedicated ten films and five performances to you. I wrote a book about you, Mom. I don't think you care. Why have you never expressed your opinion? Why did you keep sending me to Dad?"

And I'll say, "Darling, but I didn't want to decide anything for you! I just loved you, dear, and we have a dad for advice." And he'll say, "What the hell do I need Dad's advice for if I asked you, Mom? I've been trying to get your attention all my life, Mom. I'm obsessed with you, Mom. I'm willing to give anything just to understand for once, for once, what you think of me. With your silence, your detachment, you, you, you broke my life" — and theatrically throws his hand to his forehead. And then I'll get up, look at him carefully and say, "So that's it. There are two types of people in the world: some live, and the second are always waiting for something. And if you don't understand that, then you're an idiot."

He will say, "Ah!" and faint. Psychotherapy will take about five years.

This text is a good prevention of our maternal perfectionism — the desire to be an ideal mom. Relax! No matter how hard we try to be good moms, our children will still have something to tell their therapist.