{"id":90556,"date":"2015-10-06T13:08:05","date_gmt":"2015-10-06T17:08:05","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=90556"},"modified":"2015-10-06T17:41:57","modified_gmt":"2015-10-06T21:41:57","slug":"mother-approved","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2015\/10\/06\/mother-approved\/","title":{"rendered":"Mother Approved"},"content":{"rendered":"<div id=\"attachment_90578\" style=\"width: 610px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/10\/552091_640.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-90578\" class=\"wp-image-90578 size-full\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/10\/552091_640.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"466\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/10\/552091_640.jpg 600w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/10\/552091_640-300x233.jpg 300w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-90578\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Only the best for my boy: the actress Helen Twelvetrees and her son, Jack Woody, in Sydney circa 1936.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>I used to have a superpower. I never told anyone, of course\u2014that\u2019s the rule with powers\u2014and in the grand tradition, it was a mixed blessing. It was this: mothers loved me.<\/p>\n<p>It\u2019s true. Mothers of all kinds wanted me to date their sons. Hell, they wanted me to\u00a0<em>marry<\/em>\u00a0them. Not shockingly, the actual sons in question were less jazzed about the prospect. It seemed like the very qualities that rendered me totally unsuitable to boys my own age\u2014my good manners, my bookishness, my lack of any adult sexiness, even my runty size\u2014were the same things that drew their mothers like catnip.\u00a0<!--more--><\/p>\n<p>It wasn\u2019t that these boys were actually considering asking me out; in most cases, I\u2019m sure I didn\u2019t even cross their radars. So it didn\u2019t give me any particular pleasure to imagine various moms I\u2019d enchanted bringing up my name hopefully, and the ensuing indignation. And on those rare occasions when a boy might, in fact, <em>like <\/em>me, I can\u2019t imagine a rave from his mother did much to render me more desirable.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>I took an almost scientific interest in watching the power at work. I didn\u2019t have to do\u00a0<em>anything<\/em>. The piping voice, the soft <em>s<\/em>, the\u00a0reassuringly old-ladyish name: all conspired to weave a net of enchantment. I\u2019d see a mother\u2019s eyes narrow on me with approval the moment we were introduced. Sometimes<em>\u00a0<\/em><em>I didn\u2019t even need to be there<\/em>\u2014more than one mother \u201cliked the sound of me,\u201d I was told. It was like I\u2019d wished on a genie\u2019s lamp for the gift of irresistibility but had forgotten to specify to whom.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>My own mom reveled in the praise. \u201c____\u2019s mother was\u00a0<em>raving<\/em>\u00a0about you!\u201d she\u2019d say, after a back-to-school night or a class meeting. Or, \u201cJackie says she\u00a0<em>wishes<\/em>\u00a0Josh would date a girl like you.\u201d It thrilled her; I\u2019m sure she thought I\u2019d be thrilled, too.<\/p>\n<p>And it was sort of flattering, I guess. At one point I actually totted up my list of mom-suitors and realized I had eight. But when things come easily, they\u2019re hard to value. Especially when they\u2019re useless. And besides, I sensed that there was something insulting about this praise. I knew that to these mothers I seemed unthreatening, safe.\u00a0<em>Biddable<\/em>, even. Sometimes I even felt a bit incensed; I might not be a sexpot, no, but surely I was still a pain in the ass?<\/p>\n<p>The power waned somewhat when I got older, and taller, and actually started dating. Moms might like me fine, but no more than anyone else, and I had to put in normal human interaction; it wasn\u2019t the same magical, warm approval I\u2019d come to take as my due. Maturity, it seemed, was my kryptonite.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>There are moments when I remember those halcyon days with wistful fondness. There was the mom who made me go to dinner with her son to help his manners, and the other who invited me on a family excursion to the opera, even though the son and I had barely spoken. There was the one neighbor who made her son come over and set a mousetrap in my dorm room. Or the one who called my parents\u2014on behalf of her son, she said\u2014to get my number. I was a belle, sort of. I had known the rush of a kind of popularity: an emotion better recollected in tranquility.<\/p>\n<p><em>Sadie Stein is contributing editor of <\/em>The Paris Review<em>, and the <\/em>Daily<em>\u2019s correspondent<\/em>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>I used to have a superpower. I never told anyone, of course\u2014that\u2019s the rule with powers\u2014and in the grand tradition, it was a mixed blessing. It was this: mothers loved me. It\u2019s true. Mothers of all kinds wanted me to date their sons. Hell, they wanted me to\u00a0marry\u00a0them. Not shockingly, the actual sons in question [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":178,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[13115],"tags":[4064,19658,19655,189,664,5208,13623,7481,8432,19656,219,19657],"class_list":["post-90556","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-our-daily-correspondent","tag-adolescence","tag-approval","tag-attraction","tag-children","tag-dating","tag-desire","tag-growing-up","tag-mothers","tag-parents","tag-powers","tag-school","tag-suburban-life"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v25.4 (Yoast SEO v25.4) - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Mother Approved: My Secret Superpower<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Sadie Stein on her adolescent appeal to mothers everywhere.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2015\/10\/06\/mother-approved\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Mother Approved by Sadie Stein\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"October 6, 2015 \u2013 I used to have a superpower. 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