Today of all days I am looking at myself and dealing with the inevitable – I am turning into my mother.
Growing up, I was all daddy; my look, characteristics and sensibilities made me identical to my father. I was a resolute daddies girl! I would see my well-dressed, loud, opinionated mom and wonder what characteristics we shared.
Someone should have told me that time would tell.
Now looking in the mirror all I see is my mother. I hear myself saying things to people and I wonder when did my mom take over my mind. I go shopping and as I reason whether to purchase it or not, while looking at the price tag I hear my mom saying 'At that price, you can't beat a deal like that' or my obsession with hair care and the need to talk to everyone about it or how seeing a kid doing something dumb in the street, pulling them over and giving them a talking to (ok, I haven't done it in London but many a time I did this while in Harlem…many a time). I'll spare you the details about how my knees crack in the morning or the failings of digestive tract…which are all just like her.
Here's a little story: the other day I got dressed to sit and write in a cafe. My typical outfit: t-shirt, skinny jeans, sneakers, large chunky sweater. I did a quick swipe of makeup and left my flat. Once at the cafe I went to the ladies room, looked at myself and wondered 'How do I plan to meet a man looking like this?'
Cut to – later that night talking to my mom (who, keep in mind, is one part of a two man comedic act called – Mr & Mme Pierre) telling me about life back home, the antics of my nephews and how she misses me. Then she stops and lets me know that I am not to return home from London without a man. My mother then went on at length, without pause breaks for breath (my speed of talking is something else I get from her) about how even though I'm here for an education, I shouldn't leave my apartment without looking like a million bucks.
Now, I'm bowled over with laughter, when my mom asks 'What did you do with the money your dad put into your account?' Nothing I tell her, my mom says good and 'I know your dad gives you the money to go to a nice restaurant but that's what dates are for. Go buy a pair of sexy shoes and meet a man!' Ahh, that's my mom for you.
And that is why I love my mother; though she's saying it with all seriousness, (as she said today 'I'm her final hope for a granddaughter) she still keeps an open sense of humor to it (I'm sure in her prayers to God about the subject – she's all business). I'm thrilled to have hope that someday, I too, will handle topics with such poise, finesse and humor with a child of my own (and, universe willing, they'll love me for it to).
Oh, Happy Mother's day, MOM!!