What Mom Said

“Janie, sit up straight.”

“Cross your legs.”

“Eat your vegetables!”

Parental tapes run through my head whenever I say, think, or do something Mom would have said, thought, or done. Maybe this happens to you, too.

With distance (and age!) we begin to understand how we may have driven our parents bonkers and how they drove us mad. At last, we can decide which bits of parental advice we’ll hang on to, and which ones we’ll shout “Good riddance!” to.

Because I was born with misaligned feet (turned in toward each other as if they were praying), I wore Forrest Gump–like metal braces even before I could walk, followed by years of corrective saddle shoes. I’m not sure if this was part of the reason for the posture concern or if Dad's being in the military was. Nonetheless, there was always a strong emphasis on sitting up straight and crossing my legs. “Be a lady,” Mom would hiss.

As for eating vegetables—the horrors! To say I was a picky eater is like saying McDonald's has a hamburger on its menu. To be clear, it wasn’t only vegetables I despised. The list was lengthy, starting with white milk, any type of cheese other than the highly processed orange kind individually wrapped in plastic, and, Lord help me, bread crusts.

Did our parents fear we wouldn’t be strong enough to climb the rope in gym class, our brains wouldn’t have enough fuel to concentrate in school, or that one morning we’d wake up and be nothing but skin and bones if we didn’t eat what they put in front of us?

Today, old enough to question my own eating habits, I replay those childhood memories of dinnertime: Sitting alone in the kitchen at the round maple table, shoving buttered (no, it didn’t help) veggies from one side of the plate to the other like a children’s game: “Red Rover, Red Rover, let Mr. Green Beans come over.” Watching Mom out of the corner of my eye while trying to scooch kernels of slippery corn into my napkin without her catching me. Or slipping those now-cold, mushy trees of broccoli to Kelly, our Dalmatian, who would be faithfully waiting under the table.

“Posture Aware” is an idea for a button I may make and start handing out. Harping on posture is something I’m guilty of, as much as if not more than Mom. As I age, I’m even more conscious of drooping shoulders, a forward head tilt, and holding my book at eye level. Preaching about exercises like cat/cow, chest-stretching work, and back strengthening seems to be my life’s calling. Pressing the back of my head against the headrest in the car to lengthen my neck has become as reflexive as putting on my seat belt.

Within the past few years, I, Jane Ann Marie Schmidt, began loving vegetables. When I claim this out loud, I think of Mom, who, when she could no longer drive, was upset because she couldn’t go out and get her favorite foods: hamburgers and vanilla malts. Unlike her, I’m now hooked on vegetables, whether cooked (no butter, please) or raw in salads. I swear they are a cure-all for the aches and pains of age, just as ditching sugar and flour were. My parents would be proud!

As for crossing my legs, no way! Habitual leg crossing can cause all sorts of unwanted issues, such as greater trochanteric pain syndrome, less circulation (causing havoc with your veins), scoliosis, or a shortening or weakening in muscle length and strength. Whether my hip difficulties have been the result of too much early emphasis on my feet (and ignoring how that affected my hips), or years of hungry spirochetes from Lyme disease gnawing on them, I will never know. But I do know that I try hard not to make matters worse by crossing my legs.

Another parental phrase I recall from childhood is, “Remember to say please and thank you.” To this day, these remain some of my favorite words. Thank you has become a prayer I whisper when, after winter, I notice the cranes in the field, discover the toads croaking in the creek, or see an eagle swoop down from a tree and fly alongside the car as if we were racing.

Reflecting on those parental tapes brings a smile to my face. I’ll continue to be aware of my posture, enjoy the many benefits of eating vegetables, and speak politely, but I won’t be crossing my legs.

Besides, crossing my legs doesn't make me a lady—but saying please and thank you just might!