When I was a kid, my Mom used to sing while she did housework. She’d sing popular tunes, but make up her own words. I’d say, “Mom, that’s not how the song goes.” She’d reply, “So what? I can sing in any way I want.” Being a kid/teenager, I was (of course) infinitely smarter than her, so I’d just roll my eyes at how ridiculous my Mom was.
Now I do the same thing! Oh no! At least I don’t have any smart-assed kids to roll their eyes at me. :smack:
Now, what about you? What do you find yourself doing that your mother or father used to do, that you never dreamed you’d pick up from her/him?
My mom used to shoot up dope. She pimped me out for her dose once.
Seriously, what the hell? I’m not belittling your problems, or your childhood, but there are places for that kind of thing. And a lighthearted MPSIMS thread ain’t one of 'em…
I was once shaking my finger at my students and realized what I was doing. I stopped and apologized to them, saying that I had promised myself that I would never wield “My Father’s Finger.”
My mother always loved pink. Still does. I used to think it was silly, prissy, fluffy junk.
Now I worship the pink. Not screaming fuschia colours or neon, but nice, pale pinks.
There’s a certain style of things… I can’t put my finger on it exactly. I’ll use snowmen as an example: she loves snowmen decorations, but they have to have a certain “nice” look about them. Not those tin things, not those things with bits of straw sticking out of them, not decorations that seem to go out of their way to look pathetic or precious or “country” style… no, there’s a certain “nice” look she just loves. As a kid, I could never get it right. Today, I “get” it and have the same tastes. My gifts to her are usually right on the money, because they are so her style. Our styles and tastes used to clash horribly, and now they’re… well, they’re the same.
My father always printed and wrote in the same sentence, sometimes even in the same word. I don’t know how or when or why, but as I got older, my writing style matches his exactly. But exactly. I wrote a shopping list one time and left it on the kitchen table to get my jacket. When I returned, I found my father holding the list, staring at it intently, and I walked up and took it from him, telling him that was mine. He looked a little stunned, and said he could have sworn that was his writing, but he couldn’t figure out why in the world he’d needed to buy pantyhose.
Hey jayjay, we were just a couple of kids who wished our moms could be like the other kids mom. Like this thread, kids get embarrased by the things thier parents do like the O.P… Our moms were junkies and Alchi’s, very far from normal and that was seriously dysfunctional and ravaged a normal childhood. I wished my mom sang goofy songs, I would find love and normalcy in that.
My grandma used to hum in the kitchen while she worked. Little tunes she’d make up as she went along. The first time I caught myself doing it I was quite surprised, because I grew up living never less than 200 miles from my grandparents so I only saw her a few times a year. What a habit to pick up! I love that I do it, though.
Dude, this thread isn’t about how embarrassing our parents were, it’s about things your parents do (or used to do) that you now find yourself doing, too. So unless you’re an alcoholic and a shitty father, your post was uncalled for. And if you are an alcoholic and a shitty father, quit wasting time here and get some damn help already!
Apparently I walk exactly like my dad. Plus I needlessly flail my hands around as I talk, much like him.
One thing I hope to never inherit is his love repeating something someone had just said, often verbatim. It’s irritating as hell and also embarrassing.
I shrug just like my mother. There’s this one particular shrug – a subset of the “whatever,” I can’t describe it, but it’s very specific – freaked me out totally the first time I found myself doing it.
According to my siblings and people who knew my father well, I have inherited “the look”. “The look” was my father’s way of letting us know he saw through whatever bs we were trying to pass off on him. It could stop traffic. Apparently I have it. All I know is, I’ll be standing there listening to somebody and they’ll just stop what they are trying to explain to me and fess up to screwin’ up. It’s an awesome power I only use for good.
Ardred is exactly like his father. It’s very cute.
I’m like my mom, but less flaky. I find myself standing like her, mostly in the grocery store checkout line. It’s a weight settled on one hip, hands holding wallet just between my breasts, staring at nothing, waiting for my turn. Gives me a start whenever I do it.
My mom uses invented euphemisms for profanities, a habit from back when she had four kids under the age of eight. This is especially evident when she is driving. “You NIT!” “You NOODLEHEAD!”
To my horror, and despite the fact that I do not have children, I find myself doing this. Especially when driving.
My father would pick up the thread of a conversation, hours after it was considered over by everyone else involved. Out of no-where, at the dinner table: " … And another thing – !" I’m starting to do that.
When I go to a restaurant, I become my mother apparently, because I do a couple of things that used to drive my sister and me nuts.
I’m always saying, “Mmm, this is really good! You know, I could make this at home.”
And I never do.
I linger over my coffee. Dinner is finished, and desert, too. The bill is paid. And I’m sipping coffee. And My husband is asking, “Are you done yet?” “Soooo, are you nearly finished?” “How much coffee do you have in there, anyway?” Just like my sister and me used to.
I love that I do it, though.