Ever have one of those moments where you go to speak and all of a sudden your mother comes out? Or your father?
Can you relate to the horror when you realize you are becoming:
I know how you feel. I could just be going along minding my own business and then
bam! out the blue I realize that I am singing to my cat.
Yes. My cat.
And not just singing along or humming and my cat happens to be in the room. No no no no no. I am singing, and I quote, “meow meow meow meow meow, Meeoowww, Meow meow.” in some weird tune that sounds like it came from one of the old fashioned Disney movies.
My mother does this to her cat. And there I am doing it too.
My cat loves it, but that’s not the point.
Oh and there’s more. I don’t like to watch TV all day (my dad and sister are TV people). I don’t think my husband’s “man drinks” are necessary (you’re all probably thinking they are because the poor guy has to live with me, but I’m going to disregard that and plow ahead), I leave the last swallow of tea in my mug in the morning. Why can I not just finish the whole cup? I even go “Ooo” after I burp. Yes I burp. And the “Ooo” is classic my mother.
I also tend to be a push over. I put other people before myself, I can’t seem to say no to anyone, and I’m such a people pleaser that I hate myself some days. Again like my mother.
So what does this all come down too? What are you, dear reader, getting from this random rant?
Quite frankly nothing. This post is just my way of saying that I love my mother, but I came from a family that doesn’t say that. Or talk about feelings in general. We would much rather deliver a well constructed insult before saying we actually loved each other. Weird, and perhaps very sad, but true.
I visit her weekly, usually with my laundry basket in hand. We have terrible well water here, so I go to mom’s and do my laundry. We drink tea, and laugh, and go on crazy shopping adventures and spend all our money on bras at Target. We try out different recipes together, I listen when she complains about my twenty something year old brother who still lives in the basement, and she listens when I complain about the goats. We even read the same mystery novels.
Currently my mother is away on a business trip in Florida with my step dad; a trip she didn’t really want to go on. And I miss her.
My mother is a home body. She loves cats. She knits, and bakes, and drinks tea in the afternoon. She reads Koko and Yum Yum books in the evening, and she laughs every time her crazy bengal/tabby cat flies head first into the printer. She taught me to bake, can and sew, and the smell of yeast will forever remind me of her and my childhood.
I am so much like her, and in the moments that I realize that I think “oh heavens no!”, but then she goes away for two weeks and only three days into her trip I’m writing this.
What a mama’s girl I am.
And a sap.
Where’s my baby goat? I need to hug something.