I never set out to be the kind of mom who, despite her better intentions, ends up revolving her entire life around her children. To each her own, but I swore it wouldn't be me. I said I'd hold down my career and friend groups, my marriage would be unbreakable, and my kids would see that the world doesn't stop turning because they need something from me. But before I knew it, things shifted and now, I am Beverly from The Goldbergs no matter how hard I try not to be.
If you've never watched the ABC sitcom set in the '80s, The Goldbergs is based on the real Goldberg family. It's created by youngest "schmoopie," Adam F. Goldberg, and captures the essence of a lot of loving families, I think. There's the fiercely independent oldest sister, Erica (Hayley Orrantia), who dreams of becoming a rock star; lost middle child, Barry (Troy Gentile) who's the perfect blend of emotional and stubborn; and youngest sibling, Adam (the character based on the creator), a wannabe filmmaker who documents his family's antics.
At the core, the kids are held together by smothering, helicopter mom, Beverly (Wendi McLEndon-Covey). The "smother" does the bulk of mom-ing while husband, Murray (Jeff Garlin), watches TV in his underwear from the comfort of his recliner. (So relatable). As a stay-at-home mom with all her eggs in her family's basket, she meddles and bedazzles; interferes and interjects. She gives her kids "huggies, snuggies and nubbies," and more than anything, she won't apologize for any of it and it's fabulous. My kids got "huggies, snuggies, and nubbies" before I let them leave for school today so, Beverly is very much part of me whether I want her to be or not.
In all honesty, I didn't morph into a version of Beverly Goldberg until my son came into the world. I was a different mother to my daughter, who just turned 12 in October. I was still protective, but better able to let her explore her independence back then whereas later, I began to struggle with it. Like a lot. Once she entered her toddler years, and as we tried to give her a sibling, I felt my evolution in the making. I'd had two high-risk pregnancies after a bout of infertility, two miscarriages, and was told my son wouldn't make it to term. But when he did, I held him and didn't let go and honestly, I'm still trying to. His birth was the start of my transformation from mother to "smother." Because I wanted him to be safe, forever and ever, Amen.
Voted the best TV mom on TV in 2015, Beverly is the perfect example of extreme helicopter parenting and yet, I find myself gravitating towards it, understanding her motivations and reasoning like I never used to. I've realized lately, no matter what I do to deter myself from "smothering" my children, I'm still a total Beverly. And you know what? They're amazing, independent, loving individuals, so I'm really not sorry.
Here are just a few examples of how I'm slowly morphing into Beverly Goldberg.
I Get Way Too Excited About Everything My Kids Do
Here's the thing: kids are awesome. Not only mine, but in general. I never intended to throw a party for every good report card or small win, but it's kind of cool to watch two humans go from baby form where they can't do anything to, like, doing stuff. Excuse me while I toss the confetti and order the cake.
I Spy On My Kids
Don't judge me, OK? Sometimes my daughter's up to no good, and sometimes, I need to know what the no good things are before it bites her. I let her fail when I have to, but the times it's not necessary? I'm there to Bev it up.
I Try To Make Their Lives Magical
When babies are born, don't all moms want to give them the best lives possible? Isn't the goal to be better than your mother was, and hope your kids will evolve into something better than you? That's the goal here, regardless of the execution. Also, glitter dust doesn't hurt.
I Dance Like A Mom Now
I think everyone inherits the moves with age, but maybe I was born with them. I can't help it.
I Give Too Many Unnecessary Compliments
While I don't subscribe to the "everyone gets a trophy" mindset, I do believe in building your children up so they feel equipped to conquer the world. Some of this stems from my own childhood where I felt overlooked and often unseen, so if I have the chance to compliment my kids — I will. And though I never meant for it to be so often, or random ("great job wearing that sweater you hate!"), here we are.
Nothing Stops Me From Getting To My Children
I Save Everything My Babies Have Ever Given Me
When my grandma carefully placed my obsolete school papers into boxes for safekeeping I thought it was b-a-n-a-n-a-s. Now, we have boxes stacked from concrete to ceiling, full of their [sometimes trash] creations. Some are a literal scribble but I don't care. It's what Beverly would do.
I Rule At Mom Guilt
"Do you know how many goats it took to knit you that sweater? You don't want the goats to cry, do you? DO. YOU? Do whatever you want. Whatever makes you happy."
I Own Too Many Festive Sweaters, A La Beverly
At 22, I'd have scoffed at the thought I'd own so many cat shirts — let alone of the holiday variety. And yet.
I Love My Kids So Much It Hurts — But They're Good With It
The best part of Beverly Goldberg is her heart. Her intentions are always pure (well, mostly), and for the betterment of her children (well, mostly). I never thought I'd get to the point of relating to someone so bold, brash, and downright ruthless when it comes to her babies. Now that I'm here, I can't imagine being anything else. Here's to you, Bev.