Through Mom's Eyes: Simple Wisdom From Mothers Who Raised Extraordinary Humans by Sheinelle Jones - 4

It’s So Easy to Think Negative, but It Just Drains You…Think Positive!

Kay McConaughey, Matthew McConaughey’s mom

I knew Kay McConaughey was going to be a hoot from the moment we met. I’ve heard the youngest of her three grown sons, Academy Award–winning actor Matthew McConaughey, call her “a pistol.” His wife, Camila Alves McConaughey, has called her a “force of nature.” And, my goodness, she lives up to both!

Stylish and fit, she’s a former model and kindergarten teacher (she was Matthew’s, in fact), and her reputation precedes her. She wrote a memoir in 2008 called I Amaze Myself! In it, she reveals that, in 1992, her husband, Jim, died from a heart attack after they had sex. A decade later, with her oldest son, Michael, as her escort, she flashed her undies on the red carpet at Matthew’s Lincoln Lawyer premiere. (I did say she was a hoot!)

Obviously, Kay is a lot of fun, but she’s no joke. At the time of our conversation, she was eighty-seven and living on her own in Texas. Matthew and his family lived nearby. Petite and chatty, yet protective, her big personality signals to me right away that this is one formidable woman.

“Let’s start with the early years,” I begin. “Three marriages, two divorces, but all to the same man.”

“All to the same man.” She grins. “I had Mike in 1954…he wanted a brother. We tried, we tried. Nothing happened, and so ten years later we adopt Patrick. That’s my middle child. And then all of a sudden, seven years later, I get pregnant. My late husband’s sperm count was not strong, so that’s why we couldn’t have another child.” She explodes in laughter, as I buckle up my imaginary seat belt, not sure where she’s going with this story, but enjoying her honesty nonetheless.

“Seven years later, Matthew happens, and I have to tell you…” She looks up at the ceiling. “I know you’re listenin’ up there, Jim McConaughey, but you said it!” She’s still laughing. “He said, ‘That’s not my child. I can’t have…I mean, my sperm count.’ ” Wait. This was her husband’s response when she told him she was pregnant with the star of Dallas Buyers Club , A Time to Kill , and half of my favorite rom-coms?! My mouth might have been hanging open. Not sure.

Kay goes on to describe how she didn’t waste a beat in her response to her sons’ dad, Jim. “Well, let me tell you somethin’, buddy. You don’t even have to come to the hospital when he’s born.”

Now, she can’t stop laughing, and I am, for once in my life, speechless. This seems like the kind of memory that would cause her to feel pain or sadness, anger or frustration. Granted, decades have gone by, but still. Perhaps, you can laugh at these things when you know how the story ends, and that everything turns out okay. Or maybe this is what old folks mean when they say that tough times do what the Bible says, They come to pass, they don’t come to stay.

“You’re not kidding?” I ask, still unsure. She casually assures me she is not.

Kay goes on to explain that when her third child was born, he looked just like his father, so there was no more denying to be done. She says she named him Matthew because it means gift of God. Her relationship with her husband was rocky for a time, and it would be at others but she tells me, with a loving, wistful look in her eye, that they always pulled through.

Matthew may have gotten his rugged good looks from his dad, but he clearly got his charisma from his mom, along with heavy doses of his trademark confidence and spunk, which Kay insists are in her DNA. “From my father, ’cause my mother left my sister and I when I was two years old,” she explains. “My father raised us, and he was a bodyguard for Al Capone. So he was a tough man.” I could explore that piece of information in our interview for hours but, for the sake of time, I let it go.

“He raised us to be tough. But he always said, You are what you think . Think about that,” she says. “You think about bad stuff, then you’re probably gonna have bad stuff happen to you, you know?”

I nod, because I grew up hearing a similar message from my own mother, who fully believes in trying to manifest positive outcomes. To this day, she constantly reminds me, What you think about, you bring about . So, I completely understand Kay’s point.

Incredibly youthful in spirit, but closer in age to my grandmother than my mom, Mary Kathleen McCabe McConaughey was born in Trenton, New Jersey. She met her husband while they were students at the University of Kentucky and they moved the family to Longview, Texas, when Matthew was eleven. She says her kids were “all jocks” who went fishing and hunting and played outside a lot with friends. She allowed very little television—“An hour before dinner. That’s it!”—and taught her sons to be kind and thoughtful and, above all, honest.

“That was always a big thing in our family,” she says. “Don’t lie.” Listening and being respectful also topped the McConaugheys’ expectations list. “That means no back talk,” Kay says, with a commanding snap that most experienced teachers and moms have mastered. “If they did back talk, in those days, you know, I’d whack ’em on the rear end. Now I think child protective services would come for you for that.” She laughs, then adds, “But…I was very loving.”

This tough-but-loving approach is the way many of the moms I’ve interviewed describe their style of discipline. It’s in contrast to some of my Gen X and millennial mom-friends, who seem preoccupied with being their child’s “friend,” as opposed to their disciplinarian. No judgment on my part, there just seems to have been a generational shift. Some of my peers believe that if they hover more in the “friend” lane, it draws their children closer, making them more likely to confide in their parents in the years to come. At least, that’s the hope. Many of those moms had very strict parents, and vowed to do it differently when it was their turn.

Kay, who was raised in an era when it was widely believed if you spared the rod, you spoiled the child, has great relationships with her sons today even though she says becoming their friend was not her style, or her goal. The deal was: “I’m your parent, I’m your mother, and you have respect for me, and you do what I tell you to do. I used to tell them, ‘When you [turn] eighteen, go out in the world. But until then, you are mine.’ ”

The jury is still out on the best parenting approach, and I’m sure most of us would agree there’s no one ideal; so much depends on the parent, the child, the situation in question, and a multitude of other variables, large and small. This is just one reason why parenting children of any age is so challenging. That and, to paraphrase Forrest Gump, children are like a box of chocolates, “You never know what you’re gonna get.”

When you have more than one child, what you quickly come to realize right away is that they are each unique. The parenting technique that works with one child can totally backfire with another, and they all do things in their own way, at their own pace. Back when my twins were born, and my oldest was a toddler, my main priorities were to make sure they were healthy and happy, and that I was keeping up with “the milestones.” That was enough to keep me in nonstop motion and constant comparison mode as I measured this second journey into motherhood against my first. Scrambling to adapt, I worried (I mean, I WORRIED) for the first full year. My mind was constantly full of self-doubt and concerns: They’re not talking, is that normal? They’re not walking yet, is that okay? My oldest is at home with a sitter all day, will he be able to handle the transition once it’s time to go to school full-time? I didn’t stop to consider that twins are just not like singletons, and the new babies had also been born five weeks early.

I wish I could go back in time and tell my young mom-self to relax! Take a breath , I would say to her. They will be okay. And they are. It all worked out.

My husband and I enrolled the twins in a program to help them with language development and the early intervention was enough to get them back on track. When it was time for our oldest to start preschool full-time, it was indeed an adjustment—but more mine than his, as it turned out. On his first day, I lingered for a while to watch and make sure my son was okay. I was teary and emotional; he, on the other hand, was just fine. As the kids were lining up in front of the water fountain to patiently wait for their turn to drink, my son boldly strode right to the front of the line, climbed up onto the little step stool, and took a long sip of water. The other kids practically gasped in disbelief—and so did I. When he finished, he skipped over to me and said, “Mommy, I was thirsty, I don’t know what they were waiting for.”

I laugh now, but at the time, I worried—again! Have I not prepared my child to play well with others? He’s just starting school, have I already failed? Should I have enrolled him in school sooner? I mean, seriously? The kid was four.

Looking back, it was no big deal. Our kids live and they learn, as do we. So, if you find yourself in this stage now, just breathe. Give yourself some grace. If you feel like your child needs help, get it. If you need more support or advice, don’t be afraid to seek it. There’s never any shame in that. And, when good advice comes your way without your even asking for it, try to be present and open enough to hear and embrace it.

As new moms, we’re usually so stressed and sleep deprived, actually absorbing well-meant advice (even good advice) can be hard. And we can tend to be a bit sensitive too. I remember rolling my eyes when more experienced moms offered their suggestions and bits of wisdom. Things like, “It may be crazy now but try to enjoy this season—it goes so fast.” Right , I’d think, digging Cheerios and cheese cracker crumbs out of the crevices in my car’s back seat while unfolding a complicated double-stroller at the shopping center and simultaneously trying to keep three tiny kids from running into the busy parking lot. I’m definitely going to miss THIS someday.

I really tried not to be so busy focusing on the next moment or milestone that I “missed” things. But of this I am now sure: I missed things. Not anything that important though (because—remember this one—not everything is important). Today, I’m that sorta seasoned mom, saying to every younger mom who will hear me: it does go by so quickly.

Before I knew it, those early worries were replaced with new ones. As my kids developed their own personalities, one child might need extra attention, another one might cry at the drop of a hat, and another perhaps noticed when I needed a break, seeming to try to make things easier. It was crazy, frustrating, exhausting, and humbling. It was also more fun and rewarding than I’d ever imagined possible. All at the same time.

Kay’s three boys were several years apart in age and, like my kids and probably yours, they had very distinctive personalities and interests. She says her firstborn, Mike, was sensitive, agreeable, and funny; Patrick was the jock who excelled at every sport, even pole-vaulting; Matthew was easygoing, happy, and never phony. “I’m very happy, I like myself and, so, I taught him to be that,” she says, with an invisible Mighty-Mama chest thump. (You gotta love a mom who knows her worth.)

As any mother would be, Kay is proud of them all and brags that they are each successful in their own right, having chosen paths that they genuinely enjoy. Kay says Matthew’s choice was the biggest surprise. When her boys were growing up, “Just the thought of…anybody acting in our family, I mean, we would just be, like, ‘Are you kidding me? Never.’ ” So, when her youngest child opted to pursue a film career instead of becoming a lawyer as he had planned, his parents were stunned. They were also fully supportive. I’m instantly impressed because those adjustments aren’t always easy for parents to make—especially when our children choose a road that’s foreign to us, or where the risk of disappointment is high.

Perhaps Kay adapted so easily because she had a similar, unrealized, dream of her own, which Matthew fully supported. Kay appeared in Bernie , the dark comedy released in 2012 in which Matthew played a district attorney. It was a small part, and her acting days were short-lived, but she got to work with her son and loved every minute of it.

“It was great,” she gushes. “I told Matthew when we were in the scene together in this café—just messing with him, I said, ‘Now, Matthew, don’t be nervous now. Remember, you’ll be talking to your mom.’ ”

When I suggest there could be more roles in her future, she laughs. “Who the hell wants an eighty-seven-year-old woman in a movie? Tell me.” But then she adds, “Do you want to be my agent?” I love this woman. She reminds me of my grandmother (they’re just three years apart). At an age when no one expects them to be, both of these silver-haired ladies are living life at full tilt, setting their own boundaries and still fully enjoying the ride. Don’t we all hope to be like that, someday? Or, even, now?

Kay tells me that, while she isn’t giving up on acting, she has given up on certain things—texting, for one. “I just couldn’t get my fingers to do stuff,” she says, and laughs, nonplussed. My grandmother feels the same way, I tell her. (Although Grandmama’s not admitting she can’t text, she just insists that I call her on the phone because she wants to “hear the emotion in my voice, to make sure I’m okay.”)

Before I go, Kay takes me to a room filled with memorabilia that she cherishes. It showcases years and years of her brightest memories. When I casually ask if there’s anything about Matthew that we don’t already know (ever the reporter, I’m always trying to get some tea!), she leans in and I think, Here it comes, the Big Scoop! “Well, if there was,” she says, in a conspiratorial tone, “I couldn’t tell you.” I join her in The Laugh.

She’s more forthcoming when I ask if there is anything she wants other moms to know. “Positive thinking,” she says, very seriously. “Use it, be it, do it, okay? I think that’s the thing that has gotten me through things that, well, didn’t go as well, you know? I’ve had a pretty blessed life. I get over stuff very quickly, I don’t drag it with me. It’s so easy to think negative, but it just drains you…it pulls you down. Think positive.”

Kay is the oldest mom of the group I’ve interviewed, and her desire to embrace the season she’s in—carving out lots of time with her grandkids, while still seeking adventure for herself—is something I want to model. I am so inspired by her, I quietly decide not to wait until retirement to prioritize myself and my dreams, but rather to adopt this kind of mindset right now. It can be very easy when you have children to pour all of your energy into them. Kids take so. Much. Energy. But Kay—just like Wanda Durant—reminds me that it’s important not to lose sight of your own hopes and dreams, or to put them on hold for too long.

I started talking about this concept so much that, in 2023, a friend encouraged me to practice what I preach and do something that was completely outside of my comfort zone. I took this guidance to heart, and that year I trained for—and finished!—the New York City Marathon. Let me just say, it takes a certain kind of determination to run 26.2 miles, even when you’re an avid runner (and I was most definitely not). The truth is, although I was a dancer for much of my childhood, I always dreaded gym class. When the other kids were excited about field day—a school-wide competition in all sorts of physical activities like the monkey bars, running, and climbing ropes—I couldn’t think of anything more awful. To this day, I can close my eyes and break out in a sweat just picturing that brown braided rope dangling from the ceiling. I could never even stay on that darn thing, let alone climb to the top.

I carried my insecurities about not being athletic into adulthood but, when the idea of the marathon came up, I also had that voice inside that questioned, Why not me? So, at forty-five years old, I closed my eyes and said yes! I did have a few close family members privately encourage me to rethink my decision. With three kids and a demanding work schedule, they worried that I wouldn’t have the time to properly train. But, in addition to finding my inner athlete, I also wanted to prove to myself that I could make time for myself.

Cue the Rocky music here: for five months, almost five days a week, I would run. After taping the show, in between my daughter’s dance lessons, on the track that surrounds my sons’ soccer field—I ran. I kept it on my schedule and just made the commitment to myself.

While the marathon itself was one of the most rewarding days of my life, that’s not what I necessarily remember or value most about the experience. It was the training, for months on end, in all types of weather, and with all sorts of individuals from every walk of life, that was transformational. I connected with so many new people I never would have met, and I learned that my body can physically handle really hard things. I can handle really hard things. If I never again run another marathon, that’s the kind of lesson that serves you forever. Most importantly, I learned about the power of our minds when we set a narrative about what we can or cannot do. The mind speaks, and the body listens.

The day of the marathon was emotional. Along with more than fifty thousand runners from around the world, I could feel the love from the sea of people packing the sidelines—lots of whom I knew; most of whom I didn’t. Holding creative signs and cheering louder than anything I’ve ever heard in my life, their positive energy was unbelievable; I hugged them and cried for miles.

Afterward, I received moving messages from women and men who said that I had inspired them to step out of their own comfort zones to try something new, from painting to picking up an instrument, or just tackling that dream deferred. I felt incredibly humbled to have inspired them much like Kay inspired me.

Finally, as part of my marathon journey, I wanted to do something to encourage kids to dream big too. So, I used my platform as a Today anchor to help renovate a common space for kids and families at a transitional housing shelter. I wanted to make it a comfortable space where kids can pick up a book, draw, or just close their eyes and dream. That, truly, was the lasting impact of my journey—and I was only able to help others by first prioritizing myself in an important way.

That was the message I received from my visit with Kay, along with a gentle reminder of the magic that can happen when you let yourself go for it (whatever your “it” is). As moms, we can help our kids tap into that magic too. Oh, and we should all keep laughing, no matter what.

My mom, Evelyn Cohen, taught me first and foremost to speak my mind and stand up for what I believe in. You can blame HER for my big mouth (she has one too). Another lesson I’ll never forget is to consider that everyone around us has feelings and to consider them as we navigate our daily lives. She’s a WINNER.

—Andy Cohen, TV producer, writer, and host