It’s Actually Happening….

I think every daughter knows, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she is someday destined to turn into her mother. It’s a reality we all fight against with every breath in our bodies.

Yet, for whatever reason, I think God has seen to it that, in punishment for our previous sins and transgressions against good mothers, we inevitably end up writing a list much like this one:

 

Nine Ways I Might Be Turning Into My Mother

 

1. I’ve started freezing everything. And I mean everything. Our freezer is at maximum capacity plus 10% and I still wish we had room for a small ice chest. (My mother has two normal freezers, a large deep freezer and a small ice chest. Yes, really. And they are all full. See #2)

2. I have half a box of instant potatoes left and I feel the unshakable need to buy two more boxes just in case WalMart runs out and I can’t restock later.  (This habit of my mother’s, as far as I know, began in Panama when the PX literally might not restock something for weeks. We’ve been back in the states since 1998.)

3. I find myself wandering longingly through the Christmas section at WalMart, but I don’t buy anything because I know it will all be 80% off at Hobby Lobby the week after Christmas.

4. I have a large box under our bed (and three smaller ones in the closet) full of Christmas “supplies” that were 80% off at Hobby Lobby the week after LAST Christmas. (My mother, on the other hand, has an ENTIRE walk-in closet devoted to Christmas stuff. It’s like having your own personal department store right down the hall.)

5. I felt slightly guilty sneaking these boxes into our apartment, but I know I can convince the mister that it was necessary because “they were 80% off and someday we might host a party and I might need extra decorations or I might need to have a hostess present for someone or I might be called upon to decorate the Taj Mahal. . .”.

6. I’ve started to believe that if it can be cooked, it can somehow be cooked in a Crockpot.

7. I also believe I need several more crockpots (of various sizes). (I believe my mother has at least four, one of which could probably cook an entire Thanksgiving turkey.)

8. I drive the mister crazy about every faint, barely discernible but unexpected sound coming from my car.

9. I sleep in street clothes with a bag of essentials and my tennis shoes by the bed every night there is a tornado watch/warning in the area. (I am not overly afraid of storms, but this comes from a childhood of being woken, dressed and herded into the downstairs closet at the first mention of a tornado.)

But my brother, father and husband should take comfort in the fact that I do NOT put envelopes, receipts, directions, napkins, tickets or other mail of any sort above the visors in my car.

(I did this once unconsciously as I pulled out of the driveway back in high school. My brother gave me a look of complete horror and, after a few seconds to process my actions, I jerked the poor envelope down and flung it into the back seat in terror. I’ve never done it again.

My mother, on the other hand, creates an avalanche every time you want to block out the sun. I don’t know how she FITS so much paper up there!)

But, all joking aside, I do have a wonderful mother who has done her best (along with dad, of course) to raise me and my brother right, despite her little lovable quirks.

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