Am I the only one who finds it incredibly ironic and downright freaky that as we age, we turn into our parents? Freakier still...our mothers?
I find myself doing things throughout the day that makes me feel like I might be my own mother...auburn hair, puffy lips, big eyes that always know what you are doing courtesy of the pair on the back of her frizzy head, cut-off levi shorts, tig 'o bitties (which, I, unfortunately, did not inherit). She could be scraping the kitchen grout with a butter knife, sitting on the sofa, reading the mail or dusting or folding laundry or cleaning dust-bunnies with a paper towel on her foot.
"Mija...can you get me a glass of water?" Then she gave me a look, with a slight flare of the nostrils.
I knew the rules. Water had to be served in a glass cup (because plastic cups were gross). And it had to be good water. Nothing from the faucet or from the unfiltered ice maker. Mom was downright visionary in that regard. This was the early 80's. She always bought bottled water to drink, no matter what. This was way before Evian, Dasani, Crystal Geyser or Arrowhead were on the shelves, in every conceivable bottle size. We used to have to chug those big five gallon bottles every time we went grocery shopping, because mom insisted we have fresh water to drink.
"Here's your water, mom."
She would accept the glass and take a sip. Then she would ask,"What kind of water is this? Is this good water? It better be the good water. Where did you get this water? "
We would have to assure her it was, in fact, good water. Not from the faucet. Not from the icemaker. From the 5 gallon bottle. Yesssss, mom! It's good water! Geez.
Then she would look at you suspiciously as she took a big gulp of water. "Thank you."
There were times we tried to cut corners, either because we wanted to run out and play or we didn't want to miss our cartoons. Surely if we snuck in some faucet water, she wouldn't know the difference.
Fool! She always knew the difference.
You know how this is going to end, right? I find myself, totally against my will, despite my better intentions, behaving exactly like my mother. It just comes out of nowhere. Like it's my destiny or something.
Why couldn't I have inherited how to budget my money and pay my bills on time?
"Nooooo-Aaaahhhhhh! Can you bring me a cup of ice water? Oh, and not--"
Noah cuts me off. "I know, I know, mom! In a glass...with ice....and good water, not from the faucet. Geez!"
Apparently the chil'rens are much more of the gambling sort than I ever was. Maybe its cuz I'm just not as menacing as my mom was. Either way, I will take the glass the chil'rens offer me, take a sip and...."Nooooo-Aaaaaahh! Where did you get this water from?"
"The fridge...from the icemaker. What? Its perfectly good water, mom. Just drink it already, please."
And I will finish the glass, just so I'm not wasteful. And not a nag. But mostly... because I am spooked out that I am turning into my mother. All that I need to complete the transformation is some burgundy-brown lipstick that I must wear every.single.day rain or shine, regardless of the occasion or weather...and tig 'o bitties. Which I've waited twenty long years for. I don't think their comin'.
Fool! She always knew the difference but me...I'm still trying to figure out just where the water is coming from.
