Mini Me


My oldest daughter, my Lovely #1 (or #1 Lovely) shocks me with how she is turning into me…and sometimes turning into my mother.  Because I have ultimately turned into my mother, Grandma Shoes (as much as I tried to resist), means that she will turn into her too.  I have truly turned into my mother.  I get angry when I have to clean.  I point out that I am the only one that ‘does anything around here.’  I shop for deals.  I say things like ‘Geez’ and ‘Come on’ with the exact same inflection.  I am a little anal.  I can be a little judgmental (more for laughs).  I know that I have many fine qualities of my dad, Papa Kayak.  But it must be because she is a female and I am a female that I am like my mother now…and that I am now a mother…and Lovely #1 is a female.  It’s like G.Shoes is the Alpha dog and she leads us to how we will be, and it seems as if we don’t have any control over it at all!

Lovely says to her sister this morning, ‘Help me clean the toy room, and do it like this.’  She’s bossy.  She wants people to help her do things, and then forces them to do it the way she wants it done.  Um, do I do that?  Yes, I believe I do.  Did my mother do that?  Um, hell yes.

But she also said to me this morning, as she was voluntarily helping me pick up the house (which she and her sis trashed), ‘I’m doing all the things that you don’t wanna do.’  Oh, bless her little sweet bratty heart! She lines up all the shoes, she folded the blankets (as best she could), she tried to get her sister to help her.

Maybe it’s because she got to rule the house for a small time while I tried to squeeze a little more sleep in.  Maybe it’s because she got to sleep in instead of getting up for school.  Maybe it’s because she dressed up herself and her sister in ballerina outfits and frolicked around and up and down the stairs singing songs.  Maybe it’s because she knows that she is getting a pillowpet from Grandma.  Maybe it’s because she’s just like me and she couldn’t take the clutter anymore.

Whatever the reason, I couldn’t be more thankful for her helping me out today.  Daddy is gone today, and I was looking forward to cleaning up all by myself the least.  When we’re here together, we can tag team and get things done a little quicker (my way, of course).  The Lovelies typically follow right behind us and pull things off shelves and drop crumbs on the floor.  But THIS, this helpful girl, THIS is me.  This is Grandma.  This is why I am so proud that she is turning out like me, and my mom.  This is the small reason.  There are many others too.  My mother is funny.  She is lewd.  She is consistently willing to help and support.  She grows the most amazing plants.  She loves her dog unconditionally.  She can read my mind sometimes (dangit).  There are many other reasons why I am not so keen on it…but better to turn out like me than Daddy.

I mean, come on!  We can’t have duplicates of that dude running around.  We’re thinking that Lovely #2 is going to follow in his footsteps though.  He will be proud of her when she is checking her Fantasy Football/Baseball scores and leaving her socks laying around.

As I write this, the Lovelies are in their room.  There is country music (how she chose this, I’ll never know) on the radio, and I hear drawers opening and closing…which leads me to believe that she is putting her clean clothes away.  I mean, who is this kid today?  She will probably also make her bed and tidy her sister’s bed. I am quite blown away, and happy and proud, and relieved that I can cross a few things off my list for today.  I hear her saying, ‘It’s spring cleaning day, we’ve got to clean up houses’ to her sister.  She must have learned this at school….end of the year cleaning.

I suppose I can’t even take credit for it.  Maybe I still can.   We will have to do something really special today so I can show her my appreciation.

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