Thursday 14 December 2017

I'm turning into my mother, which is OK

Mary Elaine Tynan

I said I never would. I swore. And yet, since I've become a mother, I am increasingly doing and saying the same things as my own mother.

The onset was subtle, like when I found myself saying "Two for the price of one – sure you can never have enough detergent" or "Look in that cupboard – go on, look, I scrubbed and reorganised it". In truth, I tend to say the latter less than the former – I like buying detergent more than actually using it.

I realised I was on a slippery slope toward motherdom (alias martyrdom) when I recently made sandwiches for a plane trip. The mother offered me zip-lock bags asking, "Have you seen these things? They're amazing! Look how they open and close!"

I responded with as much delight and surprise as I could muster. Mind you, at the rate I'm going, no doubt such things will delight me in a year or two.

Noticing resemblances between myself and the mother is now a regular occurrence. I'm sort of resigned to this metamorphosis; in fact, I've realised there are far worse things I could become.

Then the other night hubby and I had a 'discussion' – he prefers that word to 'arguments' – because I talk back to the radio, adding in my own comments. Apparently this is annoying (for him – I find it quite therapeutic). On reflection, I think my mother does this and I'm also quite certain that I've seen hubby's mother do it, too.

While considering his complaint (ok, maybe I was sulking), I thought of that Oscar Wilde quote: "All women become like their mothers, that is their tragedy. No man does, and that is his."

Sunday Independent

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