Saturday, March 19, 2011

I Have My Mother's Feet and I'm Ok With It

Yesterday, out of nowhere, it was suddenly ok to be like my mother. 

Half my life, I've been battling the statement, "You are so much like your mother."  My response would always be, "Are you kidding me?  I'm nothing like her!", as if it would it be so horrible to be like my mom.

For my sanity, and only because I haven't quite finished my cup of coffee (for those of you who know me, candy bar in a cup), I need to break this down further because last night between strange dreams of the movie, "Uncle Buck" and my dog snorting in my face, I couldn't stop thinking about why I have so many silk, potted plants in my house.  Why did I buy them?  They do look nice and fill up the empty spaces but did this affinity come from my mother?  My sister Ellen doesn't have them.  If it were up to Eric, he would purchase living plants which I talked him out of due to the mess.  Damn, this sounds so much like my mom.

Sticky notes and lists.  When Eric and I were first married, I was out of control with those yellow pieces of paper.  I had a sticky note to remind me where my list was.  I had lists on my refrigerator for lists.  I do recall as a teenager coming home from waitressing shifts and seeing my mother's sticky note reminders all over the back door.  Hmmmm....yeeeeeessss.  Who the Hell invented sticky notes?!  They're one of the soul contributors to the madness of two separate households.  Bastards!  Eric had to ween me off slowly.  It was painful.  We almost had an intervention.  I still have a pad of yellow culprits sitting by the phone; however, they know their place and are used only for messages...sometimes.

I can certainly go on with the madness I have single-handidly inherited, and by madness, I mean the certifiable, see a doctor, and receive medicine type of madness.  There where eight siblings in my mother's family.  The craziness seems to have focused solely on the women.  Not all of them.  Some.  I say that with all the love and endearment in my heart.  I am not making light of it.  I'm simply stating the obvious.

I love my mother's silliness.  The way she makes people light up when she walks into a room.  I appreciate that she's given that piece of her to me.  I have to say though that I've also inherited my father's sarcastic sense of humor (I don't know, does it show?) so when combined, they can sometimes get me into a bit of trouble.  Not everyone "gets" me.  I open my mouth and a lot of crap dribbles out without forethought.  Oops!  Oh my gosh!  Shit.  Afterwards, I spend the next three nights analyzing every word and reaction agonizing whether or not I should apologize for something I said.

So how, are many of you wondering, did this profound thought of my mother cross my mind yesterday?  Well, I was staring at my pretty pedicured toes and thinking, "thank God I have her feet."

Voice Recording:


1 comment:

Pat said...

Scientists at 3M corporation invented the post-it note. :)