Chloe was born on a hot August day, and Mama was enormously pleased, though she’d never admit it. In the first days, she was helpful and indulgent with the new baby but, never one to filter what she said, she was constantly critical and eagerly pounced on that which she perceived was wrong. That grated on Caviness. Still, mere weeks into new-Mommyhood, Caviness was shocked when Mama announced that she was going home. Caviness felt abandoned.
There were grounds for that, Caviness reasoned. Mama had never had much of a mother herself: when she was just four years old, her mother died and her father quickly gave her a stepmother who was almost straight out of a bad fairy tale. Consequently, Mama didn’t put her own children in the center of her life. She gave them the love they needed, but not that which they wanted.
Some months later, Caviness had her second daughter, Trinity, an easy baby who made motherhood particularly good for Caviness and made Mama quite amused at the way children are raised today. Bemusement, however, didn’t change her forwardness: to Caviness’ chagrin, Mama remained frustrating. By the time baby Cole came along five years after Trinity, everything—the help-no-help, the unwanted advice, and Caviness’ exhaustion—had all come to a crash.
So you say there are times when you consider asking your mother for a DNA test? And though you love your kids, you might include them, too? Before you grab the swabs, read “Child, Please.”
The first thing you need to know is that author Caviness is funny. I mean, LOL funny, in a way that will make you feel like she’s been your friend since junior high. But this book isn’t all comedy: Caviness dispenses advice and sass, yes, but she also displays a sweet amount of gratitude, understanding, and the kind of love only shared between mothers and the daughters they drive crazy.
(“Child, Please” by Ylonda Gault Caviness, c.2015, Tarcher/Penguin, $25.95/higher in Canada, 320 pages.)
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