Emily Hoffman

    My children have the impression I've dedicated my life to nagging. "Don't forget the clothes in the dryer; they're wrinkling as I speak. Zip up your coat, and don't forget your hat and gloves." They consider this nagging.
     I'd like to correct this erroneous impression. I do not nag my children, I remind. I am no different than the other 58 million mothers in the U.S. We all remind. This need to remind our children comes wrapped in a receiving blanket with the baby directly following their birth. It's all part of the deal we take home from the hospital.
     When the college group graced my house for a few weeks at holiday time, I discovered by accident that I could still remind with skill, and they could still exhibit equal skill in tuning me out. I'd long suspected that my kind-of-adult-but-still-a-teen male tuned me out when I started reminding him of things, and had my suspicions confirmed with the conversation about car insurance.
     "I just got your insurance card for the next six month period in the mail today."
     "That's nice, Mom."
     "It has to go into your car, into the folder with the pink car registration form, so the next time you get stopped for speeding, you can show it to the polite state patrol trooper."
     "I hear you, Mom."
     "Of course, if you get stopped and get a ticket, you pay the insurance from that moment on. I can't afford to pay for another rate increase."
     "That's nice, Mom."
     "Josh, are you listening?"
     He looked up from his book. "Yeah, I'll go put it in my car right now."
     I stared in disbelief. His car was parked in Arkansas.
     I personally don't understand why children have a problem being reminded of things. When they're adults, they'll buy electronic personal planners that beep and ring to remind them of appointments and birthdays. I think my way is much more personable.
     My children don't appreciate the fine art of reminding, this point made clear to me when I shared a child's spoon last month so I could taste a bite of his ice cream. Following spoon sharing, he wasn't certain he could use it again with safety. He worried he'd get bossy germs.
     I wasn't offended by that comment. It's a compliment, actually, since mothers know they're skilled in reminding not by how much actually gets accomplished, but by comments and eye-rolling.
     No doubt my college-aged son thinks he's outgrown his mother's reminding.
     Not so, proven by the incident the night before he was to head back to college. I reminded him to get his shorts out of the white load in the dryer right away because he'd forget in the morning, as it gets hectic when he's running out the door.
     I got the usual, "In a minute, Mom."
     I'm only human, so the message on my machine asking to send the shorts he'd forgotten and his room key did bring a smile, and even a quiet, "I did remind you," under my breath.
     I wonder how long it will take him to discover his insurance card is missing.