About a year or so ago, there was a scientific study released that determined nagging mothers raised highly successful daughters.
I am not sure where they got their study pool or what they used as their definition of “nagging,” but I would like to declare myself an outlier to this study.
If nagging had anything to do with it, I would be the Queen of the Universe. Or at the very least, CEO or Grand Poo-bah of something magnificent.
I had a double dose of nagging from both my crazy redheads.
Between the two of them, I had all my bases covered.
Granny had her own subjects to nag me about.
There had better not be any pre-made cake mixes in my cabinets and biscuits didn’t come in a can.
Thankfully, the old gal didn’t nag about housework. She hated it herself and stated matter-of-factly that she was allergic, so I didn’t have to worry about that.
“But you ought to make your bed in the morning,” she stated one day, casting a glance towards mine.
“Why? I am just gonna get back in it later.”
She grunted at me. “That logic makes no sense. Make your dang bed. Smart people make their bed after they get up.”
Where she heard this, I don’t know. Since then, it has been heralded as some indicator of success by some noted people. I am sure if she was alive, she would take credit for stating it first.
Iron your clothes, wear a slip, break in your shoes before you wear them were other nag-full reminders I received.
Sit up straight, sit like a lady, don’t smack your gum, say thank you – did you say thank you?
Call your mother when you go somewhere. Call your mother when you get home. If you don’t want to call your mother, let someone know where you’re going and expecting to be home.
Along with: do your homework and don’t wait until the last minute to do it. Chances are, you may run into an issue and need more time. Don’t miss a class, don’t count on someone else’s notes, and do your work well the first time. Measure twice, cut once.
Both of them drilled this into my head constantly.
When Mama drove me nuts, I went to Granny for coffee and sympathy.
She just gave me coffee.
“She’s trying to raise you right, lit’l un,” she told me. “And it is taking both of us to do it.”
“Did you nag her like this?” I cried.
Granny sipped her coffee. “I did. I tried to. She’s stubborn – that’s where you get it from.”
I am not so sure about that, I think stubborn is a genetic trait in the women in my family along with the freckles.
“She didn’t listen to me, just like you don’t listen to either one of us,” she continued. “Your mama is incredibly smart, she just always thought she was smarter than me or your grandfather and could do her own thing. She could be running AT&T if she had of listened to me.”
No doubt if a nagging mother could nag her daughter all the way to success, Mama could have been a telecommunication maven. But she didn’t really aspire to that. When she was offered a new position, she turned it down because it would have meant a longer commute or a move, and less time with me. The success was right within her reach, but, Mama was happy where she was.
I wish I knew what that was like. I am always feeling that restless spirit that things could, should be better than they are.
Anytime I complain about life not being the way I want it to be, Mama loves to remind me it could have been – had I only heeded her nagging.
“This is when I should maybe tell you I told you so,” she will say not so gently. “But you never listen to me or do what I tell you. If you had, there’s no telling where you’d be now. You probably would be a millionaire and retired.”
I let out a deep sigh.
She always thinks if I had only listened to her, I would be a millionaire.
Maybe she’s right.
If that study was any indication, I should be a millionaire made over, have an empire to rival Oprah’s, and maybe own my own small country.
I find myself nagging my son now, telling him some of the same things I received as a child.
Make your bed, read something new every day, say thank you – did you say thank you?
What are you going to be when you grow up? An engineer? You sure you don’t want to be a lawyer?
He sighs. “I know, Mama, you don’t have to stay on me about this.”
“Yes, I do, too,” I say. “If I had listened to Mama, there’s no telling how different my life would be right now.”
He rolls his eyes – where does he get that eye-rolling from? Oh, right. Me.
I pray he never tells Mama that little tidbit. She will never let me live it down.
A nagging mother leads to successful daughters; I wonder what the outcome is with nagging mothers and sons.