This thought occured to me as I sat down at my computer with a plate of sloppy, messy moo-shi pork. My mother would NEVER do that, and would scream if she saw me doing it. I live in mortal fear of turning into her and as I get older, I find myself being a bit of a control freak or getting all pissy when I don’t get in my way, and my guilt trips have become amazingly sophisticated. That’s her in a neurotic nutshell (picture George Costanza’s mother - that’s her). I must say that I was sort of pleased that I’m still such a slob. I even got a little sauce on a speaker and I didn’t even clean it off that well! Of course, if my boyfriend had done it . . .
…when it comes to “lecturing” the kids, not only am I turning into my father, but I’m also turning into my boss.
Oh god, please not my mother.
“Put on your seatbelt.” “Bring me some coffee.” “You are NOT going to wear THAT shirt?!” “How many times do I have to tell you…”
Why couldn’t they have put her on anti-depressants when I was younger? I wouldn’t grow up to be bitter like she was.
During the presidential campaign, my parents and I were talking about Nader’s platform. I’m not too fond of “hippies” , and at one point burst out with “I would rather live in a country with jobs for everyone and a little smog in the air than the one Nader envisions!”
My father has a successor. I hope I don’t get kicked out of MSU like he did…
Worse! I’m turning into my GRANDmother!
“Nice young ladies do not talk/act/dress like that!”
I’m seeking professional help soon.
Telephone conversation between me and my mom, several years ago:
Me: Hi Mom, how ya doing?
Mom: Fine, and how are you?
Me: Oh, juuuuuuuust great. I just finished this excellent book.
Mom: Oh really? What book is that?
Me: My Mother, My Self, by Nancy Friday.
Me: Mom? You still there?
Mom: Oh s***.
Me: It’s all your fault! You You You! You did this to me!
Mom: sigh When you decide to go in to therapy, just send me the bills, okay?
I can say things like that to my mom, because in fact, we do have a terrific relationship, and I actually aspire to be more like her. But I do catch myself uttering the occasional “momism” to my own children, or reacting to the things they do in a manner exactly like my own mother reacted to me, when I did the same things.
Case in point: We were at my mom’s house, and she’s got carpeted stairs which my three-year-old just LOOOOOVES to slide down on her butt. Well, she did what most kids do, and decided to go down them head first, on her belly. My reaction was “Hey! Don’t do that! You’ll hurt yourself!” And at the exact moment those words were coming out of my mouth, I had a flashback to me, doing exactly the same head-first stair sliding at my own grandmother’s house, and my mom saying almost exactly the same thing to me. Apparently my mom had the same flashback at the same time, because after I got done, I looked at her, and said “Why did I just say that?” My mom just looked at me, looked back at my daughter (who was completely ignoring me and sliding head-first down the stairs again anyway), and said “I have no idea. It never worked for me, either. Or your grandmother, for that matter.”
I actually wouldn’t mind turning into my mother, except for the part about living in Westmount, being married to my father, and being kind of conventional. (sorry, straight guys!)
I am afraid of turning into my father, but frankly there’s not much risk of that :rolleyes:
It’s funny, every now and then I flash back something I will have just done in my mind and I will think “AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!!! That is exactly what my father would think/do/say/act”
Then I realize I admire my dad, as quirky and weird as he may be.
But what really really gets me…Is when I catch my self acting like my GRANDFATHER.
My mother is a Saint, she’s wonderful, and I admire her very much. I never particularly wanted to turn into her though. I have caught myself uttering some weird momisms and it rates as being Very Vaguely Creepy. Over Christmas, my brother and I were driving somewhere, and two friends of ours who we have known since childhood were in the backseat. My brother and I started getting into this bickering conversation, about whether or not a vacant lot used to be a restaurant or a drug store … after about 10 minutes of listening to us, the friends were hysterical, apparently we sounded exactly like our mom and dad bickering about something.
And just this afternoon I was looking at a catalogue, and saw this incredibly silly thing – a plaster goose that sits on your front porch, and it comes with 12 outfits, so you can change its clothes every month … a rain coat for April, a pilgrim suit for November … and for a moment, I was tempted to order it! It was a complete mom moment, I swear she took control over my mind and almost had me reaching for the phone and my credit card. “OMG, I almost bought a $50 plaster goose! Help!”
I’m turning into my mother. I try to take her good points, the important stuff she has taught me, and use it, but the bad stuff creeps in. She whines and nags; she makes excuses for everyone; she never stands up for herself. I struggle against that every day; luckily, the strength and perserverence she taught me help to counter-act the negative things.
Many of my behaviors are due to my father - all typical of children of alcoholics or abusers. I need to be in control of all situations; I’m very sensitive to the moods of others; I hate being yelled at, and immediately dissolve into tears once it happens; I have two very distinctive selves that I show or hide based on my trust of a person. I actually did a 20-page research project on this topic for my Intro to Psych class, just so I could learn more about myself. It saddens me that such a horrible aspect of my life has such a huge bearing on it ten years later; but I try to use it positively so it doesn’t hold me back.
As long as I don’t start telling my kids that they’re direct descendants of the residents of the Lost Continent of Mu or announce that federal scientists had discovered an alien spacecraft that was orbiting the earth at 25,000 times the speed of light but were keeping it secret (my father did both), I’m safe.
If I do either of those things, someone please shoot me.
I am so my mother :rolleyes:.
Neither of us can control our finances very well.
Both of us obsess over cleanliness.
Both of us have severe cases of wanderlust. She’s always planning her next cruise or her next trip to New Orleans; I’m always planning my next cruise or my next trip to Disneyworld .
Neither of us wears a coat, even if it’s -20 outside. And we both bitch at each other for not wearing a coat! Here’s a conversation we’ve had a thousand times over the years:
MOM: Where’s your coat!?!?
ME: At home in my closet. Where’s yours?
MOM:At home in my closet.
Both of us like Yanni :eek:.
On some level, I also think I’m becoming my grandfather :eek:.
Oftentimes I’m tempted to tell my sixth-graders at church how easy they have it compared to back in my day :rolleyes:.
I yell and scream at the TV, as if that’s going to motivate the Cubs to do better :rolleyes:.
I’m always cracking corny jokes.
Uh… that’s all I can think of for now ;).
Considering my parents were admired by the other kids for be stable and sane, I wouldn’t be depressed if I did. I never understood, but the other kids assured me my parents were cool.
SO I don’t think it’s too bad a thing. I’ve got my Mom’s temper, but I’m quiet like my Dad. Odd.
More and more often I start to say something and I hear my mother’s voice coming out of me. I’m starting to get a little spooked by it. I actually hear it.
I’ve been told by people that my daughter sounds a lot like me on the phone. I don’t hear it though.
I definately hear my mother .
Anybody else do this? I mean hear your mother of course, if you heard my mother that would be creepy)
My dad is a real nice guy and I don’t mind that I take after him. Personalitywise, I’m more like my mother but there’s enough of the old man in me to incite comment. But the scary part is the uncanny physical resemblance which only becomes more pronounced as I grow older. The male side of my family has these domineering genes – not only do all the siblings look alike, each generation resembles the last.
And the good news is I’ve passed those genes to my eldest son. He looks just like me.
Oh, DeskMonkey, I hear ya…
After years of being a super-slob, definitely not a Maxwell House-wife (as they used to say), etc., just SO I WOULD NOT TURN INTO MY MOTHER . . .
now I’ve turned into my father. Family argument? - I say “Let me know when you’ve dealt with this” and walk out. Someone disagrees with me? - I say “Fine, do what you want” and walk out. My husband says I need to spank the kids? - I say “Whatever - kids, come here, hold still, let me spank you.” I think you get the picture.
On the other hand, in my home, the biggest insult we can throw at each other is “You’re acting like (your mother) (my mother) (grandma)” - all referring to my own mother.
I conclude from this state of affairs that (1) my parents ruined me, just like everyone’s parents did; and (2) being a parent isn’t a piece of cake.
I’m scared to admit this… but I think I am slowly turning into my mom, after years of her telling me I am my father’s daughter.
I catch myself exclaiming “God Damn It!” at my cats when they break something/tip something over/scratch the furniture/commit general mayhem, just like she used to exclaim to my sister and me. Same inflection and everything. It is CREEPY!!!
I’m turning into a psycho, like my mother…and her sister…and their mother…ahh, yes. A long line of psychos. I seem to be carrying on the tradition.
I am so totally my mother.
We’re both messy housekeepers and we’re both really guilty about it. Like my mom, I never met a new recipe I didn’t want to try. I’ve found myself saying in a restaurant, “I bet I could make this at home,” something that mortified me whenever my mom said it. We both have to finish our cups of coffee before we get up from the table. We both insist on having total control of the household finances. Neither of us is shy about demanding respect, proper service from businesses, or truth in advertising.
The scary thing is how much I look like my mother. You know how they slow down the morphing scenes from a movie to show how the guy changes into a werewolf frame by frame? Well, if you line up a pictures of me and my sister, one from each year since we were twelve, it’s like watching us morph into Mom.