I Am My Mother's Daughter

Another writing assignment from Mama's Losin It and I've chosen prompt #4:

In what ways are you turning into your mother?

I say things like "stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about" to the kids. My mom used to say this to me, although I don't remember being a crybaby.

I find myself researching everything I don't know everything about. She's a nerd, a complete google nerd (well she was before the panic attacks lol) and now I sit here being a google-whore looking for more and more information on things I will never need or use. Like which of the 4,000 varieties of tomatoes will grow best in Oklahoma. Really, I don't care b/c I just bought the first ones I saw on the shelf-o-seeds at Wally World.

Or how I find myself meandering through the house in my jammies, my fancy purple housecoat that zips in the front... along with my white ankle socks and tennies (for when I venture out to check the mail of course). I made fun of my mom for walking around in her ankle length, African print moo-moo's, leg warmers and tennies all my life... and what do I prance around in???

Or even how I am addicted to infomercials and think everything they have up for grabs will somehow enhance my life. She has every item ever sold and tries to give them to me when she decides they don't work as good as she was convinced they would. Like the rechargeable vacuum cleaner she pawned off on me. She thought it was a great idea! I had a small apartment and didn't really need a huge one. What she didn't take into consideration was that is wouldn't actually suck anything up and when trying to move it across the floor, (the fancy feature, the one that sold her, of it being broken down into several pieces for easy storage), it would fall apart in your hands. So you're left with five disconnected pieces, loud noises from the mini-engine run by hampsters, and shit still all over the floor! I, on the complete other side of the coin, thought the "Hip Hop Abs" by BeachBody would greatly improve my body and I could incorporate that into something my teen and I could do together. I watched the infomercial intently, studying everything they had to offer, the cost, delivery time, results interviews. I was hooked! I called the number and paid for prompt shipping, had them deduct another $25 each month out of my acct for this fitness website to jot down our success, keep in touch with other members, see other offers, etc. All systems go! We were ready to rock the world, and our apartment, with our new bodies! Ba ha! That thing came in and while the teen was putting in the million DVD's one by one, I was sitting on the couch, smoking a cig and almost broke a sweat! I was exhausted just from watching them. Not one time did I get up off my fat arse to engage in the $100 investment I purchased for the both of us. Instead, I loaned them to a fat friend.

On the nicer side, she was one of the strongest women I've ever known! Even though she's a bit nutzo now (clinically diagnosed) and has a hard time with reality... I think Andy has at least another 30 years with me before I'm straight-jacket bound. Lucky him!