Mother, May I (Turn Into You)?


Growing up, everyone told me I looked just like my mother, and I hated it. My mother has always been beautiful, but I wanted to look like, and be, my own person with my own identity. No such luck. It didn’t help that we had similar tastes and similar ways of dealing with (or not dealing with) things. But since entering my thirties, I’ve really started to lean into the fact that I’m just like my mother. I now welcome comparisons, and here are just a handful of them:

We both love Jean Smart, Tyne Daly, and Cheez-Its.

We weigh ourselves every morning when we’re on a diet, and we’re always on a diet.

We think Long Island Medium is real, but if a lady came up us in the supermarket and asked if we “had someone who passed in a tree” we’d tell her to get bent.

We ask our husband’s advice, take it, then never let them forget it if it’s wrong.

We don’t like reality TV, but can also watch 17 straight hours of Say Yes to the Dress.

We’ll finish getting ready, then mutter “I guess this is as good as it’s gonna get” in the mirror.

We can be very productive, but our preferred weekend plans are spent in pajamas watching Lifetime movies.

We use 12 face creams at night and don’t think any of them are doing anything other than making us skid off our pillows, but we keep using them because a Woman’s World magazine told us to.

We appreciate clothing that matches, but don’t want it to be “too matchy matchy”. We have no idea what delineates the two things.

Our greatest talents include starching and ironing a shirt and making a tightly-tucked bed.

When our husbands are driving, we help them navigate by holding onto the door handle, pressing down on an imaginary break, and saying “OooooooOOOooo!”

We cannot remember if we saw whatever movie you’re talking about. Was the girl with the hair in it? And was it about the thing at the place? We didn’t see it. Oh wait, yes, we did! It’s good!

We come up with dramatic story-lines for the suburban drama of the neighbors we’ve never met. We don’t know your last name, but we think we know why your wife left you.

If someone cuts us off while driving, we’ll call them a made-up curse word, like “douche piss” or “sucker bitch”.

If you see us at a crowded party, we’re probably in the corner having a lovely conversation with a dog or a small child.

We both don’t like to drive at night or in the rain. At night in the rain? We’re crying behind the wheel.

We’ll let people get away with a lot, but if you push us to a certain point (which we’re unaware of until we’re there), you had better take cover because a storm is a-comin’ and you’re about to have a verbal house dropped on you.

We’re both smarter and stronger than people give us credit for.

We only have trouble falling asleep on Sunday nights – every other time of the day or night we can be out in two seconds flat.

We say things like “two seconds flat”.

We’ll give ourselves pep talks when we’re alone in the car.

We give out full-size candy bars on Halloween, and are always left with too many that we then guiltily eat because we don’t want to be wasteful.

We both try to stay positive in the face of adversity or bullshit.

We have big hearts, Bette Davis eyes, and nice butts.

We genuinely want everyone to be happy. Well, not everyone…but like 95% of you.

See? How lucky am I? So a very Happy Mother’s Day to my amazing mother, and to all the other mothers and mother figures out there. Thank you so, so much for everything. It’s a difficult job, and you don’t get nearly as much credit as you should. We love you!