There’s a certain kind of mother you see in the movies. 

Her kids are grown, and she desperately wants to connect with them. They come to dinner, and she shares all the news of the old neighborhood, updates them on who’s moved back to town, who’s getting a divorce. 

We’re supposed to laugh at this mom who thinks her grown kids will care that the neighbor’s cat has been leaving little mouse gifts. We’re supposed to roll our eyes along with her whole family — husband included — when she launches into an update on the bathroom painting situation. 

Yes, her topics are literally as boring as watching paint dry. 

What a loser, we’re supposed to think. Doesn’t she have a life? 

I used to be one of those people laughing. Now I just want to give her a hug and tell her she’s not alone. 

Because somehow, without even noticing it, I’ve become her. 

My college kid calls, and suddenly I morph from a busy professional who works a full-time job and runs a small business into “woman who updates her kid on the extra space that’s opened up in the basement now that the old oil tanks are gone.”

It was when I asked if they wanted me to carry the cellphone downstairs to show off the space that it hit me. I’d become that mom. 

That neighborhood cat?

She lives next door to us. 

Painting the bathroom?

I won’t bore you with the details.

We don’t share these details in regular conversation, would never strike up a conversation with a friend about the new oil tanks or text them about the dog’s new habits. 

We wouldn’t have thought to bring them up to our kids when they were living at home. 

We wouldn’t have to. We all would have lived them together, would each have seen the “gift” from the neighbor’s cat, would each have carefully closed the bathroom door to keep the pets away from the drying paint. 

We would be connected by these shared experiences.

That mom isn’t a loser. 

Yes, she does have a life. 

She’s trying to share it.