Through Mom's Eyes: Simple Wisdom From Mothers Who Raised Extraordinary Humans by Sheinelle Jones - 2

Close Your Laptop and Put Your Phone Down

Cynthia Germanotta, Lady Gaga’s mom

Sometimes, when I interview someone, I can tell that their mind is somewhere else. Or that they’re so preoccupied with what’s about to happen that they’re not fully present. And who can blame them? Even on my side of the interview table, it’s easy to get distracted by thoughts about how you’ll look on camera, or what you plan to say, or even what the kids are going to have for dinner.

That wasn’t at all the case with Cynthia Germanotta, mom to daughters Natali and Stefani—aka Lady Gaga. As we settled ourselves at a small, round table, amidst the camera crew’s bright lights and a few staff from her foundation, Cynthia talked with me as if nothing else was happening on earth and I was the only person not just in the room, but in the world .

If you’ve ever been on the receiving end of this kind of attention, you know that it’s not just inspiring, it’s sort of intoxicating. Watching Cynthia display this rare trait with such ease, I couldn’t help but imagine how special a child would feel under that gaze.

We were nestled in a corner of a restaurant owned by the Germanotta family, located on New York City’s Upper West Side—quite a contrast to the small West Virginia coal mining town Cynthia is from. The eatery, Joanne Trattoria, is named in tribute to Cynthia’s husband Joseph’s sister, who lost her battle with lupus decades ago. Gaga fans from all over the world know the backstory, and they make pilgrimages to visit the restaurant no doubt in hopes of bumping into their idol—or maybe just her mom. On any given night, you’ll find them excitedly pointing out Stefani’s photos on the walls full of memorabilia and family pictures, or seated at tables heaped with plates of eggplant Parmesan, meatballs, and lemon-artichoke chicken, beside local residents who are used to the fuss but still see Joanne’s as their own relaxed neighborhood spot.

Scanning the photo wall myself, I’m struck by the Germanotta women’s strong genes. Strikingly similar features and expressions are echoed across multiple generations of their faces. There are also pictures of young people from all over who’ve become members of the family—not through blood, but through their connection to the Born This Way Foundation, which was created by Lady Gaga to support young people and their mental health. Cynthia, who runs the foundation, has learned a lot about this work from her oldest daughter, and it’s become a passion that they share.

“Family is everything,” Cynthia says, her eyes glistening. “It grounds you. You know that it’s people you can trust. It’s people that you can talk to. It should be a safe space.” I silently agree. Everyone deserves to have people with whom they can be fully themselves and truly exhale.

Surrounded by a sea of tables that will be full of hungry customers once the doors open, Cynthia reminisces about the early days with her daughters and how much she misses the simple, dependable pleasure of family dinners with her husband and kids after a busy workday. On Sundays, they would spend much of the day at home, preparing then sharing a big Italian meal. As a working mom with two daughters born six years apart and a demanding corporate career that required long hours and travel, this time was especially meaningful.

“We all love to cook,” Cynthia says. “We all love to be in the kitchen. It was kind of the center of the universe.”

Stefani—or “Steffi,” as Cynthia affectionately calls the woman legions of fans know as Lady Gaga—and her sister, Natali, were active kids whose passions and talents surfaced early. “We saw that and started nurturing it when they were young,” Cynthia says. By the time she was two, it was clear that Gaga’s tinkering on the piano was already more than a fun habit. By four, she had graduated to playing entire songs by ear. Like a lot of the moms I’ve interviewed, Cynthia and her husband affirmed their children when they first saw signs of a serious interest. Although Gaga displayed a genuine gift from an early age, not every child shows real talent. Yet parents who took notice when their kids enjoyed an activity, or were curious about something, and encouraged them, often made all the difference. In Lady Gaga’s case, Cynthia and Joseph encouraged her obvious love of singing and playing piano (and, ultimately, guitar), investing in music lessons and creative arts summer camp. They fully supported Natali’s interests too.

“We tried to strike that balance between the pragmatic side of parenting and facilitating what they wanted to do,” Cynthia explains. “I think the more you do that, and the earlier you do it, you’re empowering them to build a sense of confidence and a sense that they can accomplish anything, because you’re letting them explore.” Yes! I thought, promising myself I would do the same with my own children.

My promise was put to the test one day about a year later when I was walking by my daughter’s room and heard Clara singing. I literally stopped in my tracks. She was just six at the time, but she sounded amazing. I come from a family of musicians on both sides; my mom is a singer and has taught music for as long as I can remember. While I can’t sing for anything, I grew up around enough music to recognize talent when I hear it. Struck by Clara’s sweet little voice, but not sure what to do about it, I stood by the door, pulled out my phone and recorded her.

“You’ve got to do something with that,” my cohost Hoda Kotb said when I played it for her the next day during a commercial break.

“Really? Like what?”

“Singing lessons or musical theater, anything ,” she said. “She’s good.”

I’ll admit that my first thought was: I’ve got three kids and wake up at four a.m. to get to work. I’m already rushing around from piano to soccer. I don’t have time for ONE MORE thing. But then I thought of Gaga’s mom and many of the others I’d met. What would they do?

That night I asked Clara if she wanted to take a music theater class. She’s pretty shy, so I wasn’t sure how she’d respond.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“It’s learning how to make Broadway shows and the musicals we watch,” I explained. Clara’s face lit up. So I took her to a class, and she knocked the teacher’s socks off. A few months later, my shy little girl took center stage as Dorothy in a community production of The Wiz . It turns out that music theater is her thing. Sitting there in the dark, I kept thinking how surreal it was to see her up there. That’s my baby girl!

I had wondered whether putting Clara in any kind of formal class at such a young age might be too pushy. But then I remembered Cynthia telling me how she and her husband took notice when their oldest daughter started playing around on the piano at age two. Lady Gaga has often said in interviews that music was always in her head.

“We thought there might be something really special there,” Cynthia says, “and just decided to nurture it and see where it would take her.” When they first offered her formal lessons, the Germanotta’s precocious daughter said, “But I’m already playing.” (You gotta love a child’s innate confidence.) They explained how piano lessons could help her improve and find even more ways to play, and she was sold. Decades later, that “nurturing” has certainly paid off.

Countless toddlers like to pluck piano keys or bang an imaginary drum. Others dance with a certain intensity and flair or draw incessantly, scribbling on anything they can find. When our children express an innate talent or initiate an interest that seems to grow, how do we respond as the adults in the room? How should we? Do we give their tuneless plunks a little grace or do we redirect them to something less noisy, or even tell them to knock it off? What about when they explore something messy, like painting or crafts, or when they’re eager to “help” with cooking (and flour goes everywhere )? Or how about if your plan was to have them run track (because you’re a third-generation sprinter) but they’d rather live in the water (and you don’t even know how to swim)?

Cynthia inspired me to reframe my thinking and give my kids space to experiment more freely. Early interest in the piano doesn’t mean your child is a future pop star or concert pianist any more than interest in finger paint means they’re a budding Picasso, but it can’t hurt to give your kids room to explore and ultimately find what they love.

Like so many things associated with parenting, this sounds obvious—and pretty simple—but it can be easier said than done, especially when you’re in the midst of a stressful day, or week, or year. So, my ears perked up when Cynthia confessed her own struggles with mom-guilt. If you are raising kids, you’re probably very familiar with this particular brand of stress. I don’t believe any of us are immune. Working moms worry that their splintered time may somehow hinder their children. Stay-at-home moms worry that their constant availability could do the same thing. And, no, I don’t mean you feel guilty all the time, just that you have inevitable moments when that sinking feeling kicks in and makes you question your instincts, your priorities, yourself.

Because I’ve built a career in morning news, I’ve missed almost every weekday morning with my kids. If I’m lucky, they might stir a little bit as I kiss them goodbye, but I worry that, when they look back, there will be a big Mom-shaped hole in their memories of routine things like waking up, picking out outfits for the day, eating breakfast, and loading backpacks. On the days when I’ve left them snuggled peacefully in their beds, I check in by FaceTime in my dressing room in the morning or during commercial breaks. It beats nothing—but when someone can’t find their pants, or so-and-so ate the last waffle when you-know-who wanted one, I can’t do much about it from the studio. My children don’t question it—again, it’s all they know. But seeing the morning mix of chaos and joy that happens at home when I’m at work can sometimes feel awful, like I’m missing an essential part of them growing up.

Another pain point for me: work trips. The early days of traveling for work as a mom were desperately stressful. I’d spend the week leading up to a trip fussing over my kids and trying to prepare them for my absence, planning every outfit and thinking through all the meals. We’d talk through in detail when I was leaving, when I’d be back, and what they should do if they got lonely in my absence. Of course, they’d still cry when I left. And, the truth is, outside of their sight, so would I. While I knew they’d be just fine, every time I shipped out for an overnight reporting assignment I felt that inner tug-of-war.

One night, when I was really struggling with my anxiety and concerns about what my short absences might do to my kids, I called a friend who also traveled for work. Her children were older than mine, so she’d been doing this whole working-mom thing much longer. She let me vent and whine, and then she minced no words: “Sheinelle, stop it.”

I’d expected tea and sympathy. This was not that.

“Stop doing the ‘Mommy’s gonna miss you, I’ll be home in just two sleeps’ stuff,” she told me. “Just don’t make a big deal out of it. You’re giving them the chance to learn some resilience and adaptability. When they see it’s no big deal for you, it won’t be such a big deal for them either.”

It wasn’t easy to hear or believe. But, sure enough, she was right, and now I race to tell friends with younger kids the same thing. In fact, earlier this week a colleague was confessing how guilty she felt about an upcoming trip.

“Stop the guilt!” I told her. “They’re gonna enjoy being with Grandpa, and when they see it’s no big deal for you, they won’t be as anxious either.” I have now officially become the sage “older mom” I once needed.

I’ve talked about the mom-guilt of missed bedtimes (and wake-up times) and milestones with countless parents, but I never expected Cynthia to bring it up. When she did, I was grateful for her candor.

“I would cry all the way to the airport when I was leaving my kids,” she says. But her perspective changed one day when she was in her bathroom preparing for her day, as seven-year-old Lady Gaga watched her apply makeup.

“Mommy, I’m really proud of you,” her little one said.

“Why?” Cynthia asked.

“You help our family. You get up every day, take care of yourself, and get us ready for school.”

“I was really taken aback,” Cynthia tells me. “At that moment I realized that they’re watching us and listening. It was really special.”

Knowing how close Cynthia and her daughters are today really reassured me. Instead of worrying, I now imagine that, like Gaga, my kids will grow up to be proud of the work I have been doing rather than resentful or sad about what I might have missed. These days when I feel a twinge of guilt about time apart from my kids, I replay Cynthia’s words in my mind, and remember that they’re watching and listening, even when I’m away. That means they’re not just watching me greet them each day via FaceTime from my job, they’re seeing me dedicate myself to a career I am proud of and that provides for them. They’re listening to me shuffle and reshuffle priorities, set big goals, and make tough choices. And, as they grow older, maybe they’re even learning to think about how they might juggle having both a career and a family of their own one day.

Another part of Cynthia’s journey as a mother is so important for all of us to hear. Lady Gaga has been very open about being bullied as a child, including literally being thrown into a trash bin when she was in middle school. Unfortunately, this kind of behavior has found new outlets for my kids’ generation, who are growing up with cameras and microphones in their pockets from as early as elementary school.

“I knew about some of the bullying, and, as parents, we tried our best to help her,” Cynthia says. “But she didn’t share all of it—either because she was embarrassed or afraid to tell me.”

Another reason Cynthia didn’t see the severity of the bullying was that, unlike a lot of bullied children, her daughter continued to do well in school—at least at first. Eventually, however, she developed depression and a sense of isolation. Her grades began to slip, she became irritable, and spent more and more time alone in her room.

“It took a beautiful childhood and turned it into something negative,” Cynthia tells me. “Stefani tried to tell me about her depression, but I wasn’t quite getting it. I said all the things we say to try to make people feel better—it’ll pass, take a hot bath—because I really didn’t understand the problem.”

As Cynthia recalls those years, I can hear the lingering pain in her voice. It’s clear she still aches for the version of her daughter who was being teased at school and misunderstood at home. But instead of letting those regrets haunt her or keep her from enjoying a healthy relationship with Gaga as an adult, she’s turned them into fuel for a mission to help other children and families avoid the same pain. They created the Born This Way Foundation to educate parents about the warning signs of bullying and how to, together with their children, “build a kinder, braver world.” Through her work, Cynthia sees a lot of young people who are bright, talented, and maybe even high achieving but, behind that, there is “a lot of darkness, and they’re struggling.” Often, so are their parents.

Cynthia’s sage advice for those painful times applies all the time: “Close your laptop and put your phone down,” she says. “Sit on the couch and really look [your child] in the eye and talk to them. Validate what they feel. We may not feel it but, to them, it’s real. Also look for any changes,” like a slip in their grades, more agitation, or spending excess time behind closed doors, alone. “Stefani was doing all of that, and I didn’t quite catch it.” I feel Cynthia’s gentle reminder wash over me to keep the channels of communication open with my children and to be aware of their mental, social, and emotional health. After the pandemic, when one of my kids developed a lot of anxiety and showed signs of distress, I was much more aware of it because of this mom-moment.

We’re all tempted at times to dismiss or minimize what our kid is feeling, in the (misguided) hope that treating a problem as no big deal will magically make it so. Whenever that happens, I think about Cynthia and how, decades later, she still regrets the times she failed to take her child’s worries seriously. Her words frequently come back to me like an echo: “To them, it’s real,” she told me. That has stayed with me ever since.

There’s nothing like talking to people who have been in your shoes and reached the other side before you do. So I paid really close attention as Cynthia talked about navigating the transition from taking care of your kids’ everyday needs to watching them take care of themselves. There’s that old saying that, in parenting young children, “the days are long, but the years are short.” So many moms admit that those early years often feel more exhausting than exhilarating. Yet, as your kids gain independence, letting go can still be hard, and most moms are surprised by how much they miss their children’s younger years. Cynthia is no exception.

“As moms, a lot of our self-worth comes from feeling needed,” she says. “By the same token, we raise our kids to be independent, we want them to go out into the world, and watching that is very exciting.” She compares it to the moment when the mother duck puts her little ones in the water to let them swim on their own. “Letting them be is great. You see sides of [your children] that you didn’t see before, probably because we were doing everything for them.”

With both of Cynthia’s daughters clearly thriving (Natali is a fashion designer who has styled her older sister on tours and movie sets, for magazine spreads, and even for the 2017 Super Bowl Halftime Show), I wondered what Cynthia would do differently, given the chance.

“I wish I’d known to be a better listener,” she says. “I would hear them, but I didn’t really understand what they were telling me or the magnitude of it. I didn’t really validate their emotions. Sometimes all they want is for you to just be a sounding board.”

Even when our kids become successful, we can still be our own worst critics. But Cynthia did her best, and her kids thank her for it. To this day, Gaga talks about the love she has for her mother ALL of the time. Talking to Cynthia, being in the same room with her warmth, love, support, and honesty, it is clear why her daughters are her biggest fans.

After I interviewed Cynthia, I thought a lot about how we can help build confidence and self-esteem in our young girls. I vowed to be more intentional about listening to Clara, especially, and to take her hopes and worries seriously.

The opportunity to put this into practice came soon after, when my daughter was upset one evening because math is such a challenge for her compared to English. My first instinct was to tell her she is a smart kid and could get it if she worked at it. But when I replayed what she said, I realized she hadn’t expressed a worry that she was incapable. She was frustrated about how many mistakes she was making. I needed to really listen and respond to what she was actually saying.

“Making mistakes means that your brain is growing,” I said, pulling the words out of thin air. Like we so often do as parents, I was hoping to make her feel heard and supported, but there were no guarantees that I would. It certainly didn’t seem like she heard me at the time.

Turns out, she did. More than a year later, I was cleaning up and found one of Clara’s old classroom journaling assignments. In it, she talked about math being tough, but she wrote that even when she makes a mistake, “it’s cool because it means my brain is growing smarter.” Even though it hadn’t seemed like it at the time, Clara had been listening.

Note to my mom-self, and yours: You are not perfect, but you are enough.

My mother taught me the importance of being true to myself and being kind and good to others. It is better to treat people as they want to be treated and not how we think they should be treated.

—Billie Jean King, legendary tennis and women’s rights champion