By Marie Bombeck
Sometimes I open my mouth and my mother comes out. If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, Mom is flattered a lot these days. But God bless my mother. I am not sure how she put up with me. I recall being an angst-filled, drama-queen teen. Even though no one in my entire life has told me that I look like my mother, my husband tells me he sees the resemblance and says I have a lot of the same mannerisms. I usually push the comment aside, but somedays I see a little bit of my mother in my face, around the eyes and mouth. Or I find a trait that I never knew we had in common. As kids, it seems to be the worst thing in the world to resemble our parents in any way. We want to rebel, break the mold. And most importantly we want to be our own person that in no way shape or form resembles the people who gave us the gift of life. As kids, we want to fly away from our families, spread our wings, and forge our own paths. As we become adults, we realize that our parents were always one step ahead of us, building the path we were walking on. They were laying down the bricks, planning for our futures. They were putting the guard rail up on the cliff and building the staircase down so we could leap off the cliff by taking baby steps. And also, don’t tell the teenage you, but I have a feeling now that deep down, our parents probably wanted us to be our own individually unique person too. Whenever Mother’s Day or next month’s Father’s Day comes around, I find it hard just figuring out how to thank just one parent. I still see my parents as a unit or a team, both shoving the same values down my throat. Work hard. Honor your commitments. Don’t gossip. Treat others the way you want to be treated. And watch your mouth. (The last one I am still working on on a daily basis.) I owe my parents a lot. More than I will ever be able to repay or thank in my lifetime. Mom always joked that she wished I wanted to be a doctor. But she always supported my artistic side. She encouraged me to go to school for art. She encouraged me to be creative. Dad always wanted my sisters and me to become our own person and not care what others thought. Whatever our passion was, he wanted us to give it our full 100%. It was hard to see all the lessons my parents were teaching me when I was living under their roof. It was hard to appreciate in boundaries they set. It was easy to take for granted all that they did. It was easy to dream about the day that I had my own place and ruled the roost. It is easy to dream about not being anything like the people who raised me. But you know, when you leave home, make it on your own, you start hoping you will at least be half as good of the person that they were.
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Marie BombeckSharing thoughts and stories that we all probably have had. Archives
September 2018
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