There’s this phase that all women go through, where they are petrified of turning into their mothers and try their hardest to go the opposite direction. I’m sitting here, writing this post in an effort to urge not to. Now, you know what Baz Luhrman says about advice in Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen) right?
Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past
From the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts
And recycling it for more than it’s worth
Just for laughs, I’m going to tell you about my revelations using the most cliché of clichés, coz I can! You can run but can’t hide.
The older I grew, the more frequent the ‘You’re so much like your mother!’ Whether they were talking about my face or my personality, I just didn’t see it. And the change from mommy’s little girl to moody teenager must’ve been hard on my mother, but outwardly, she seemed unfazed. So, I was even more horrid. Gah! Why was she always around and in my face, nagging me about every single thing? I couldn’t wait to move out of home and get away.
Then I moved away and suddenly my punching bag wasn’t around anymore. No one was around to remind me to drink enough water or bring me goodies in the middle of the day when I myself didn’t realise I was hungry. The phone calls became more and more frequent and my visits back were filled with late night conversations. Suddenly, I was getting to know the person behind the role that she played as mother. And it was amazing.
Now, when people tell me I look like her or talk like her or am like her, I quite literally take it as the biggest compliment I could ever receive coz guys, she’s so cool. I mean, don’t get me wrong we can drive each other up the wall like no one else can, but most of what makes me interesting comes from her.
My super human ability to stay up way past normal peeps – her
My slightly cracked sense of humour – her
My need to explore – her (She took me to every national park in India, trekked through most of North India, travelled through Europe & America and now has her heart set on South America)
My palate – her (She exposed me to lots of different kinds of cuisine and taught me how to cook and bake)
But here’s the kicker; that moment when I knew there was no escaping it. I was my mother. I was really late getting to work, like really. So, I left the house, got to my gate and could not get into the cab coz I hadn’t made my bed with the corners tucked in just right. Of all the little quirks I’ve picked up from her, this has to be the one that hit me the hardest! #OCDproblems, amirite?
This is my point, turning into your mom might just be the best thing to ever happen to you. I know it is for me! Happy Mother’s Day, Mom! Thanks for making me, me!