285. Regrets, too few to mention

If you are one of the two or three people that read my blog with any form of consistency, you may have  noticed one thing. I’m a momma’s boy. Unashamedly, my mother is my hero. I ask her for advice constantly and I will never stop trying to honor her.

In chauvinistic Venezuela during the chauvinistic 80s, a single mom of two, working in the chauvinistic profession of engineering, faced many challenges. What made her able to surmount her challenges was her determination to prove herself to herself at all times. She didn’t want to be seen as a woman doing a man’s job; she wanted to show the world what she could achieve. I only learned this later in life, but she doesn’t identify as a feminist, even though most people who knew her would consider her one. She identifies as a person that can do anything she sets her mind to. She’s incredibly driven. When I asked her what motivated her, she said that when she starts a new job, she looks at her boss and asks, ‘How can I become their boss in a few years?’ She loves the idea of climbing the corporate ladder. That’s what drives her.

Somehow, this skipped a generation. My brother, well he shows signs of ambition, but it’s different than hers. My brother has more of an entrepreneurial ambition, my mom is more about being the best at what she does. Me? I hardly ever fall into the trappings of wanting to prove myself to the world. Not even in my longest running activity of choice, video games, do I ever feel pressured to be the best. Isn’t having fun what it’s all about? No goals, no plans, no deadlines, just being? Definitely skipped a beat with me, this whole ambition gene. In all honesty, I have met few, men or women, who match my mother in terms of single-minded purpose. 

In her single-mindedness, however, she may have skipped learning anything associated with “female” stereotypes, so no cooking, no crafts, no dancing. And yes, no typing. She is a hunter and pecker of the keyboard. I mess with her, but I also never learned to properly type. 

Small aside here, but for some reason I never had any formal education on typing, so I can’t do the fancy things my wife (who did learn) can. Things like typing without looking at the keyboard and typing with one hand while slurping coffee with the other one. I can probably reach like 70-80 words per minute, but with 0.5 typos per word. As I’m sloppily typing this, I can’t help but think about the fact that Gen-Xers and Millennials are probably the last generation that will type well. Other input methods, like voice and swipe, are becoming more mainstream and perfected. My peers are already telling me that Gen Y can’t type worth a damn.

But, I digress. The point is that my mom is goal-oriented AF. Surprisingly, she is doing retirement at an incredible level of success. I worried that the lack of career would just make her languish, but she is thriving. Somehow, she is able to not do anything, have no goals, follow no plans, have no deadlines, and be perfectly content and fulfilled. And in that, I can finally see the genes I share with her. And those genes didn’t skip a generation.

Here are some of my other mom posts: 1, 2 and 3.

Happy three quarters of a century today, mom!