Becoming Our Mothers

Several of you remarked on the post regarding Diana's solution to her filthy roommate that it seemed clear she had taken after me with regard to her communication style. Yesterday my mother came up to visit me for the afternoon. As she was leaving home she texted me to say she was bringing a friend. The message amused me because it reminded me so much of her mother, my nana.

When my kids were small Nana would often show up at my house unannounced and with a carload of her friends. some folks would find this kind of intruding but I always welcomed it. Mind you, it was no trip around the corner for my grandmother. We lived a good hour and half apart. Invariably, she arrive on a day when the kids were fussy and impossible to settle and I was feeling frazzled. Again, lots of folks might think, "Oh great, now there are guests to entertain." On the contrary. Nana would breeze into the house with her friends, play on the floor with my kids, and chit chat with her friends and me before they all piled back in her car to continue their journey. When they left the air seemed clearer, this kids were calmer, and I felt like I'd had a break while I enjoyed some adult conversation. It was the perfect clarifying interruption.

I was almost never able to convince Nana to stick around long enough to have a little lunch or dinner. The visits were always fairly brief. I enjoyed seeing her friends as much as I enjoyed seeing her because they all had as much personality as Nana did, which meant they were all a bunch of firecrackers. In fact, when Nana died I not only mourned her but I mourned having her carloads of friends descend on my house unexpectedly.

Fast forward (or reverse or side wind, whatever) back to yesterday. Mom's message made me laugh because I thought it was a sign she was becoming her mother that she'd be bringing a friend. I told her so when she arrived. When I invited them for dinner and they both declined saying they had to be on their way I said it was definite, the transformation was nearly complete. She laughed, not unlike my grandmother used to, which of course, amused me even more.

Then the realization struck, if Mom had become Nana, and Diana was becoming me...that must mean I am becoming my mother! I was afraid it meant I might have to start wearing purple since that's her favorite color and my least favorite. I am assured it just means I need to be able to sew and it just means my fashion sense needs to be somewhat bothersome to others....I think my fascination with tie dye covers that.

All in all, there are far worse fates than becoming my mother. I can smile at that change since I think my mom is pretty admirable in a lot of ways. It's when I channel my dad that I really worry!