Oh Crap! I Look like my father….Did I just sound like my mother?……

daughter “Mom! Can I go to the game?”
Me “No you are grounded”
Daughter “Why?”
me “because I said so!”
Daughter “But Mommmm!”
me “No!now don’t ask again!”
Daughter rolls eyes
Me”Don’t you roll your eyes at me young lady!”

That’s when I realized I have become mother! Holy Crap! I stopped arguing with her because I was in shock! I just sounded just like my mother!! She just stood there in the kitchen looking at me as I tried not to cry! I gave in and let her have her way. I really did not want to sound like my mother!

The image that flashed before my eyes, was of a curly-headed girl about her age standing in a kitchen similar to the one I was in, having the same conversation with another mother. Mine. I remember making a silent vow to myself that I would never, ever, never, ever tell my kids “don’t you roll your eyes at me!”, when I was a child. I remember thinking I was going to be different. I was going to raise them with a soft, but firm hand. I was going to explain things to her, not yell “because I said so!”, just because I did not have an answer! I was gonna be super mom, soccer mom, PTA mom, the coolest mom on the block! There was no way I was going to try to bribe my little girl with things to get her to do what I wanted her to do. I was not going to be the yeller! I was going to handle all situations with wisdom, grace and intelligence. Above all else I WAS NOT GOING TO BE MY MOTHER! I have FAILED miserably!

I walked into the bathroom after this little incident in the kitchen. I washed my face. I did not warsh my face, as my mother would say! I felt a little better. That is until I looked in the mirror! I glanced up at the image in the mirror! I jumped back a few inches. The face I saw looking back at me, looked a heck of a lot like my father! Holy shit! When did this happen!? My eyes followed my hair-line, where the once golden blond hair has traces of gray in it. I touched my eyebrows, unruly as they have always been. My gaze followed to the color of my eyes. Eyes that change color depending on the mood I am in-just like someone else I know! My gaze then drifted to the corners-the crows feet. Just little creases at the corner, but very similar to my father. I put my hands to my face and felt the lines around my nose and mouth. When did they become this deep? I rested my gaze on my nose. Which by the way is the feature that I hate the most. I have never had a beautiful profile. My nose being slightly larger than necessary. This was alway the defining landmark that connected me with my father. OMG! Is it bigger? I finally let my gaze shift to my mouth, always slightly crooked, not crookered as my mother would say! Ok I am good, it has not changed that much. Then I saw it! The landmark, unlike my nose. It has always been subtle. Just beneath the surface. No one sees it very often. In fact, I used to be terrified that someone would point it out to me as a teenager! I lean closer to the mirror. Searching. There it is! That horrible little indention! I pulled my lip up, much like a man does when he is shaving around his lower lip. I could see it winking at me. As if to say, here I am, here to stay! The cleft chin. A Y-shaped indention in the chin that is inherited by a dominate gene. A dominate mutated gene, mind you! I think I blacked out for a momment. I walked out of the bathroom into the bedroom to sulk, cry and feel sorry for myself.

Now, I am not knocking my parents. This is not about how bad my parents are or if they are unattactive. It’s about me, being me. I think what bothers me most about all of this is always thought I was an individual. My own person. I remember saying as a child. “I will never became like them!” I know that this thought process is the same for most people. I mean, we all have parents. We all want to be our “own person”, right? Heck just the other day, my mother made the comment to me that she realized she was becoming her mother. I laughed it off. “What Mom? Nah, you are you mom!” giggle giggle. The older she gets the more she takes on her mothers ways, face and sayings. I was determined that I would NOT follow down the same path! Yeah right!

I noticed since the incident (horrible as it was) with the mirror, that I sound more and more like my mother every day! The way I say things to my daughter, my husband. The tone of my voice. The problem is that once I realize what I said, I will stop in mid sentence. Shocked! My family usually,looks at me strangely as I try to continue what I was saying without sounding like my mother. My husband pointed something out to me yesterday after a little argument with my 13-year-old had me curled up in my bed wanting to pull the covers over my head and never come out. He pointed out that my little girl was a mini me! I was horrified at the thought! Not my daughter. She is her own person! She voices her thoughts out loud! She always has to have the last word. The moon is blue! She always has to be right! Her way is the best! She often takes control of the group. Shes the director, the leader, the mouth of it! She is funny, she has a wonderful sense of humor! Oh, holy balls. It dawned on me! I was looking at my reflection! The tilt of her head, the set of her jaw, the way she talks with her hands, the kindness in her heart for animals. What have I done!? I don’t want her to be me! I want her to be her! I don’t want to be my mother! I want to be me!

I sat there thinking, worried that my little girl is going to be in counseling for years! That somehow I ruined her! I realized that she is trying hard to pull away from the image she has about me. She is trying to become her own person. She is rebelling from me to become herself. She is not doing this because she hates me, or because I am a crappy mother. She is doing this, this arguing, eye rolling and sass, to not become me! I never understood it before. She is everything I am not too. She is a class clown, a practical joker, a funny face maker. She is girly, bows, make-up, a fashionista! She is petite were I am not. She has piano hands, not the cubby, stubby little hands that I have. She is thin, wiry! Never will she have to worry about her weight. Goofy! She hates anything scary, sad or unkind. Her hair is straight, cannot hold a curl.The color of honey in the summer and almost mahogany in the winter. In fact she told me one time, that she loves her hair. She never wants to have hair like mine. Mine is curly, unruly, crazy, wild, untamable just like me. She is good in math and she likes it!(well everything except long division, we share that!)
As I thought about my little mini me that I created. I began to see that it is all a circle. She is the image of her father, the voice of her mother and I am the image of my father, the voice of my mother. My mother is the image of her mother with the thoughts of her father. I will take care of my mother, just as my mother will take care of her mother. I will continue to rebel against the thought of becoming her. Just as my mother will with her mother. My daughter will continue to struggle to be her own person too! But as much as we pull away, trying to be individuals, it will catch up with us. It will catch us unaware one day. My daughter will look in the mirror one day and say the same thing. She will be shocked and may be a little scared! And I dear readers, I will sit back and giggle, giggle until tears roll down my face!!!


Things have changed….

A worried man with a worried mind

no one in front of me and nothing behind

There’s a women on my lap and shes drinking champagne

Got white skin, got assassin’s eyes

I’m looking up into the sapphire tinted skies

I’m well dressed, waiting on the last train

Standing on the gallows with my head in noose

Any minute now I’m expecting all hell to break loose

People are crazy and times are strange

I’m locked in tight, I’m out of range

I used to care, but things have changed.

I have always been a Bob Dylan fan. I dont listen to him every day, though.  It seems that I  go though phases where I love and appreciate Dylan. Then there are times, when I can’t stand to listen to anything that he sings. This last month has not been one of those times.

While I was surfing the net, I found a song that really hit home for me. I found the song on YouTube(of course). Its call Things have changed. According to YouTube, the copyright  date is 2000 on the video.  I guess I did not pay that much attention in 2000, since I had never heard of the song before. That year was a bad year, if I remember right. (that’s for another day,another blog)

I am aware that Bob Dylan is before “my time”. I fell in love with Dylan’s version of House of the rising sun when I was a teenager. The soulful way that he sings it almost makes me cry every time I hear it. I can feel the sadness as he plays along with his guitar.

I love listening to songs that tell a story. If I get goose bumps down my arms, or cry. Then I consider it a good song. There are very few artists now days that do that for me. Most songs on the radio now just sound all the same. I guess you can say I am a tough critic.

 Its is almost like a high if I find a song that speaks to me. I find a song that really moves me and I will listen to it over and over until everyone in the house is sick of it! I then will listen to as many songs as I can by that same artist. Most of the time, I will spend a month or so listening to the artist before I  move on to another.  This is what happened with Things have changed. I think I have listened to that song over 30 times now.

I pick it a part in my head. Line by line. I can relate to the song. To me the song is about realizing that you are somewhere that is familiar to you, but is now different than the way it was when you left it. Like going back to your home town,high school or some where that you stayed when you were young. You realize that nothing can take you back to that time. You have grown older. The group of people that you hang around is different and will never be the same again. Like the feeling you get after a tragic accident. You realize that  that chapter in your life is over, never to return again. There is sadness in that. Sadness that you cannot return to that time before when everything was great, fun, safe, young. For me Dylan’s song hits me directly in the heart. Like a shot of grief aimed directly at me. 

I look around and see people who I don’t know. I look around and see people who are standing in someone else’s place. Sometimes I feel lost as I look around the room. “People are crazy and times are strange. I m locked in tight I used to care, but things have changed.”

Dylan’s songs usually have this effect on me. I don’t listen to his songs if I want to be happy and forgetful. I listen to his songs when I want to feel, love, cry and ponder.

I want to know dear reader, is there an artist or song out there that does this too you? One that makes you stop, look around and feel? I would love to hear from you!

Until we meet again,

Follow your dreams!


The Pillars of the earth continued….

Ok I told every one that I would continue writing about The Pillars of the Earth while I read it. Well, turns out, I lied. I did not mean to lie to you dear reader. I just got caught up in the story.

Ken Follet’s 1989 story has been given life by the Stars miniseries. I have not seen the miniseries. So I can’t comment on it. But I can comment on the book. This book follows the lives of several people during the 12 century. What I found interesting, is that Ken Follet admits that he does not believe in God, but this book is soaked to the brim with stories about God,Churches, Monks, and Bishops. Most of the time, this book focuses on the corrupt side of these characters. But still it was hard for me to read, once I found out that he expressed that he did not believe in God. Not because I was upset that he is a non-believer. I could care less about that. I just found it funny, that in his story he tells  of several individuals, who have a strong believe in GOD. Each one believing that he is right in his actions, due to it is GODS will.

The story starts out with small boys watching a hanging of a young man. The men that hang this young man are cursed by a 15 yr old girl.  The story then moves forward to Part one 1135-1136.  Here we find the main characters Tom the builder(no relation to Bob the builder, although for the 1st 100 pages or so, I kept singing the sound. Can we fix it? Yes we can!) his wife and two children. Tom is building a house for a young couple soon to be married. Shortly he finds out that the young bride the daughter of the Earl of Shiring, rejects the proposal to marry William Hamleigh. William whose father is a important man in the country, is furious. He rides to the building site, almost knocking over Tom’s youngest daughter in the process and tells Tom to stop building. Tom upset over the near miss of his daughter by William, stands his ground and tells William that his workers must get payed for the rest of the week of building. William, a spoiled rich boy, argues with him until Tom brings up the subject of hell fire  on him. William finally agrees to pay, but Tom and his family have made an enemy for life.

Tom and his family find that they are destitute and wander trying to find work. Tom refuses to settle to build houses, instead wanting to find a church to build. His wife is pregnant, they are starving and it is winter. She gives birth and dies. Tom leaves the baby on the grave of its mother and continues on with his children. After a day he has a change of heart and turns around to get the baby. But the baby is not there. When his wife died, he meets up with Ellen. Ellen lives in the woods with her young son Jack. (Tom and his family had met the pair once before earlier) Ellen shows up again and leads Tom to where the baby is. The baby was found by a traveling Monk.

Tom falls in love with the women and they leave the baby with the Monk. Tom continues to travel the roads with his children and new wife. They are starving. They come to the town of Kingsbridge. Where they met Prior Phillip.

well there you have it. The frist couple of chapters.  This book is 1007 pages long. It was an interesting read. A little long in some parts. It has several rape scenes and violence. The rape scenes get old after the 1st two or so. So if you are opposed to things like that, this might not be the book for you. Yes the information is important to the story line in a way. But I kept feeling like maybe it was being used too much. After reading this book, I understand why some have ban it from schools and the like. Not saying that I agree that it should be banned. I don’t think any book should be banned. But I can understand the reason behind it.

Thanks for reading,

Until next time,