On Becoming My Mother...

A Guest Blog by my Amazing friend Meg.

Growing up, I would have done anything to avoid it. My boyfriend uses it as a scare tactic. Some may call it a curse, but we have all been there. Yes ladies, we are slowly turning into our mothers.

For those of you who are too young to have experienced this phenomenon, just wait. It seems that whatever habits irritated the living crap out of you throughout your childhood and adolescence will start to emerge in adulthood. One day you will pause in a moment of frantic cleaning before someone comes to your house for the first time, and realize this is exactly what you swore you would never do! I can hear my snide teenage voice saying “Mom, if these people are your real friends, then you shouldn’t care if they see how we really live!” Does it matter? Somehow, no. When my boyfriend can’t find some random item he left on the kitchen table two weeks ago, I respond, “That’s because I put it away where it belongs! I was sick of looking at it!” I know he probably left it there for a reason, but I can’t help myself. Something takes me over! I can go for two weeks without picking anything up, but then out of nowhere I want—no, need—to have an immaculate home.

Another thing that my mother still drives me crazy with to this very day: when I am on the phone with someone she incessantly asks questions or makes statements in the background during the conversation. When I ask if she just wants to talk to the person, she shakes her head and waves me off. Here is the kicker: lately I have caught myself doing this SAME THING to my boyfriend! On multiple occasions! (As I read this back, I have to insert an apology to him right now because Joe seems to be bearing the brunt of this curse. I AM SORRY!) I can’t control myself. Now, I know that these aren’t horrible traits. God forbid I clean my home to completion. It’s just the principle of it all.

My mother is a diluted version of her mother, as I am a diluted version of her. It’s nature. I get it. But here is my biggest fear of all. They both say awkward sexual things without realizing it. Don’t know what I mean? Oh, please, let me elaborate. I am visiting my Grama one day, and she and her husband are showing me pictures from their recent barbeque. My Grama wants me to see their church organist named Dick, so she is searching for him in the stack of photos. She keeps saying “I can’t see Dick in this picture! I can’t find Dick in these pictures!” It took everything in me to hold in my laughter. On my drive home I immediately call my mom to tell her and we both enjoy hysterical laughter for a few glorious moments. The next circumstance, luckily, my mom was right there to share it with. My mom asks her mom about a vase of green leafy stick-things on her counter. My Grama proceeds to tell us about how she just “had to trim her bush”. I had to rush out of the room because I could not control myself. Ok, so my mother and I take pleasure in some laughs at my Grama’s expense, where’s the harm in that? The problem is that my mom does the same thing! She hosted a Super Bowl party last year and proceeded to ask people if they watched “the foreplay show” instead of the pre-game show. Then she said that The Saints were “getting the train run on them!” while I awkwardly exchanged knowing glances with friends. She joked with my brother about being “penis blocked” as opposed to “cock blocked”. She asked my dad what a “queef” was, and when he tried to explain it to her, she interjects her realization, “Oh! A pussy fart?” Are you kidding me?

It’s inevitable. This is going to happen to me. I cannot escape my destiny. The question now is, how do I deal with it? Can I delay the onset? I am afraid to say that there is no avoiding it. I guess I need to look on the bright side; my mother is a kind, smart, confident, assertive woman and I should be happy to be half the woman she is. I think. So ladies, take a deep breath and dive in. It may not be today, it may not happen until you have children, but it will happen to you too. [I want to end this with some awkward sexual statement that could be unintentional but I can’t think of anything… maybe that’s a good sign?]