When Did I Start Sounding Just Like My Mother?

I’m still not sure how it happened, but somewhere along the way?

I started sounding exactly like my mother.

Not that it’s a bad thing.

Just totally unexpected.

I can still hear her voice telling me that “there are nitpicks all over your room” and “it’s time for chewing practice” and “if you can’t say something nice” and “watch your attitude” and my personal favorite….

….”I don’t really care what everyone else is doing.”

And me, myself and my bad attitude would sigh and promise ourselves that when we grew up we would never talk like that or tell anyone what to do or ever provide completely unsolicited opinions about any subject at any time.

Ever.

Until one day I got older and wiser and realized how wise my mother was all along.

The other day I walked into the living room and there were people everywhere.

Everyone is home now and they were all together eating Cheetos and drinking lemonade and putting together puzzles and watching an intense docudrama on Disney where mermaids who live in Australia were trying to decide if they could walk on land and run for student council president at the high school.

There were people on the couch and on the table and on the chairs.

They needed more room. More space for puzzle making and lemonade drinking and general merrymaking.

And in the search for more space, someone had made the brilliant decision to move all the pillows…

….to the floor.

I stood there quietly for a moment just staring at the general melee and wondering why the pillows always ended up on the floor and trying to figure out why mermaids were even running for student council.

And as I stared a hush slowly came over the room….well….except for the mermaids and their voting populace.

“Are you okay, Mom?” someone asked in a whisper.

I said nothing.

Quietly staring at the mess and the pillows with dismay.

With great emphasis, I pointedly looked at the pillows, glanced around the room and said emphatically, “Did you know that pillows on the ground are one of my pet peeves.”

No one said a word.

They looked at the ceiling.

They looked at the floor.

They looked here there and everywhere except at the floor.

And all those pillows.

In the hush, I heard someone whisper to their sibling, “I think Moms have a lot of pet peeves.”

I turned around with great fanfare.

“We do,” I said loudly.  “I think I’m going to write my next book all about pillows and why people should not eat Cheetos on khaki covered couches without napkins and all my pet peeves.”

“And,” I continued with sudden inspiration, “it just might be a New York Times bestseller.”

With that brilliant proclamation on pet peeves and pillows, I smiled confidently and turned to leave.

And as I left the room and I rounded the corner, giggles and laughter broke out as my son said out loud….

….”That is going to be one really big book.”

*sigh*

I’m taking my pillows and moving to Australia and maybe…..

….I can get the newly elected mermaid to put in a good word for me.

PS  I’m sure my mother would have had wiser words on the subject.

I need to phone-a-mother for advice.

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