I was discussing my column the other day with my sister, Janine, telling her I wanted to write about how women should take better care of themselves and  that they should look out for the women around them, especially younger women.

She laughed, and said, “Yeah, put your own oxygen mask on first.”  I said, “What?”  She said, “You know.  When you’re listening to the airline safety spiel just before takeoff; they always say, ‘Put your own mask on first, before helping those around you’.”

I thought the analogy was perfect!  It made me think about most of the women friends I have and cherish.  If they weren’t instructed to that sequence, they would probably try to help others first.  So many women I know – friends, family – seem to invest most of their energy in taking care of their children, their husbands, their parents, their jobs, and leave little time for their own needs; their own dreams. 

We need to be kind to ourselves as well; take care of ourselves for a couple of reasons.  First, it sends a message to others that we respect ourselves and expect others to respect us as well.  Second, the young women in our spheres will have healthy role models.

I believe it is even more important these days that young women, who are constantly beset by advertisements and the media and all the hype about clothes and sex as the standard for the current ideal, have strong, confident women to emulate so they can counteract the onslaught of the Paris Hilton message.  Women that take care of themselves, realize the importance of education, good character, and of being true to oneself can make the difference to a young mind. 

A friend of mine told me about attending her granddaughter’s graduation from middle school.  She said she was dressed up like a “little prostitute.”  Some days later, when she had some alone time with her granddaughter, she brought up the subject and gently discussed with her the choices she had made.  Sometimes, a grandmother, or aunt, or friend, can accomplish what a mom cannot. 

The extended family living together under one roof is almost a thing of the past.  Instead of a family consisting of grandparents, perhaps an unmarried aunt or uncle and more siblings, in addition to the mother and father, has given way to one couple or the single mom family.  So it’s even more important today to have other women as mentors. 

Somehow, all of this keeps brining me back to my own mom.

I adored my mother, with the exception of a brief period of 5-6 years during my teens.  Later, and then after my marriage, she became my best friend.  While I know she was mostly very good in raising me and my siblings, instilling in us character and a “good moral fiber,” and understanding our needs when she would give us comfort or gifts for the soul, she did not help me to develop my full potential.

My mother had a full plate.  Besides her husband and four children, she was the center of her siblings’ lives and the conduit to my father’s family.  She worked.  Money was tight.  The house was always full of relatives and sometimes boarders.  She was the energy that sustained everyone but she still found time to take off with her sister several times a year to visit a relative or friend out of state. 

I realize now what she didn’t have time for in her “easy child’s” (or the other children) life.  And that was to mentor me; to help me develop into the most I could be.  My siblings and I discussed growing up and agree, after a certain point, we were on our own.  She figured she’d instilled in us that “moral fiber’ and we would take it from there.

In high school, I was a dreamer.  I never did a lick of homework unless it was to write a story or a poem and that I usually did in another class.  My mother repeatedly told me she wanted me to go to college but she never challenged my mediocre report cards and when I told her it wasn’t really necessary to attend parent/teacher conferences, I could see she was relieved.  One less thing to do.  And the guidance counselor that brought me down to discuss the discrepancies between my marks and the I.Q. tests we took, allowed me to shrug, and then sent me back to class.

I’m thinking about Barbara who teaches 6^th grade.   She holds a monthly girls’ luncheon in which any topic can be broached.  In one particular session, she had them discuss what makes a boy “nice.”  When she told me about these luncheons, I was so impressed with her caring and willingness to invest her time.   If I had had a Barbara in my life, I might have gone to college at the traditional age.  Because, while my mother said college, college, college, I couldn’t image how that could happen any way.

So I graduated from high school at 16 and went to work full time at an insurance company, completely in charge of my life.  I paid a third of my salary as rent, made all my own medical and dental appointments, partied like crazy and even loaned my parents money.  The one area my mother still tried to hold control over was my late hours – 11:00 or 12:00 on weeknights, but I figured if I was an adult in every other way, I should be able to make those decisions as well.  We fought about this for several years, or rather she delivered ultimatums and I ignored them.  Finally, she gave up.

When I became a mother myself, I found it very scary that I had taken on life so fully when I was merely a child.

Another friend told me she thought my mom’s attitude was generational.  I clarified that with her to mean pertaining to the 50s when I grew up.  I wonder.  I think it was also economic.  Whatever – what I do know was that while she brought me up to be independent, she did not help me discover the full flavor of myself; to reach my potential.  She did not teach me to take care of myself or to realize that education was vital or that I should expect more.

I know in her way she tried.  But I confused the message.  She did encourage my dreams, interests, gave me special presents they couldn’t afford when she felt my psyche needed it.  (Not something that happened often.)  She raised me to believe I could do anything but she neglected to give me the tools, to help me understand my abilities; to let me in on the secrets.  Maybe because she didn’t know them either.

So, using myself as an example, I offer evidence that young women need mentors; they need us.  It can only work if we have an exchange of information.

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