I suppose I'm rather sensitive. I get sick a lot. I get incredibly sore sleeping in any position slightly different than normal. My allergies are a year round burden. I'm prone to migraines and heartburn like you wouldn't believe.

But my feelings rarely get hurt. I can count the number of people on one hand who can actually hurt my feelings. With respect to the overwhelming majority of the population I have a very ambivalent attitude. I'm occasionally curious, but really I don't care what other people think of me. I try to be good. I try to make the right choices (alas, it wasn't always so...) I try to be kind. But I'm also very flexible. I try to keep in mind that what works for someone else might not work for me. I am fully aware that what I know to be right others might think wrong. I don't always care to keep my voice down, I won't always stifle a laugh, and I can't be trusted not to speak up if I disagree. I just don't care what strangers think of me, my threshold for embarrassment is extremely high.

But like I said, that all only applies to the majority, there's still the minority to contend with.

For the most part, that minority is my mother. I think it's very interesting how our relationship has evolved over the last ten years. Actually I find the whole idea of adult child- parent relationships wildly interesting.

Just this weekend I settled into my chair in the living room in my sweats, coffee in one hand, puzzle in the other and I had one of those overwhelming "I have become my mother" moments. If my mother wasn't a woman who I admire, respect, and adore I might have a problem with that, but let me tell you, there are worse things than becoming a woman like her.

At the same time, nobody is perfect. My mother; a triathlete with multiple degrees is the most capable woman I have ever met. She has never done anything with anything less than absolute zeal. She is 100% committed to everything she has ever tried. But sensitivity, this is not her department. If I'm as tough as nails, she is as tough as high strength low alloy steel. She cares even less for the opinion of strangers than I do.

My mother is the only person who can hurt my feelings. And she's the only person I know who's never tried to do so. It's such a strange paradox. As is the fact that I've never once held this against her, because were she able to refrain from saying whatever it is that stings, she'd do so in a heartbeat. She just... has a hard time recognizing things that might be hurtful- because the same things wouldn't hurt her feelings. I don't want this to sound like some sort of assault on her character. My mother is the most amazing person I've ever met, and she's certainly one of my favorite people anywhere. I wouldn't change a single thing about her.

I think the most interesting thing about the parent- adult child relationship is the enormous opportunity that every generation has to do it just a little bit better than the one before it. I get the benefit of my mother's strength, but also the benefit of her weakness. If I pay attention, I have a chance to decide what kind of woman I want to be. I am doing my best to be strong, independent in both mind and action, informed, educated, and also sensitive and nurturing. Some of these things come more easily to me than others.

In an unmentioned and seemingly unrelated way this topic all stemmed from what I've been working on in art class. To see this week's masterpiece click here. (This week it's in color)