Watching Wimbledon today and being very invested emotionally in the relationship between Andy Murray, who would become the first Brit in 27 years to win Wimbledon, and his mother - in the stands - dutifully worrying, and "there" for her son. I'd followed the story. A nasty divorce and the mother who brought him up, "taught him everything," according to the commentators.
So, when his big win came against the #1 tennis player in the world, Novak Djokovic, I watched as Andy ingested all the praise, the applause, and then watched as he made his way up to the "family box," where his coach, girlfriend, friends - and his mother - were applauding. I watched as he made his way across the first row of his closest fans, giving hugs to all. Then I watched as he turned his back on the box and proceeded to head down to the court for the ceremony. It was only that his mother "squealed," as he put it, that turned him around to acknowledge her presence, to give her a hug for the many years of sacrifice and caring that brought him to this moment.
So why was I disappointed in Andy? What in the world, as a mom, did I expect from this young man who'd just accomplished something that is historic, something that will give his mom (and dad, though we don't hear much about him) a lifetime of pride. What do we expect, as Moms, from our kids? Is it eternal reverence and appreciation? And do we deserve it? Does the basic choice of becoming a mother and putting in the hours of care, concern, support and love - does it entitle us to that big "thanks mom" at the end of the day? at the end of the play? at the end of the tournament?
When I was a young actress, I never walked off the stage thinking about either of my parents. If I was congratulated for a good performance then, and even now, I thank myself. But I guess I wonder how much of myself is a tribute to them? I'm sure there are a lot of kids out there who are clearly on both sides of this discussion - those who love, respect and feel that they "owe" something to their parents, and those who feel that they have accomplished it all on their own.
I am somewhere in the middle. But if I'd been Andy Murray's mom at that historic moment in history which belonged to him . . . I think I would've still been a little hurt that he forgot me.
