Dyslexia of the mouth and other charming traits

This week's writing assignment from Mama Kat: In what ways are you turning into your mother?

Oh. Dear. Lord. To say that Mama and I had a rocky relationship for the majority of my adolescence would be putting it mildly. We screamed, argued, slammed doors and called names. I was sassy, hard-headed, trying and disrespectful. Plus, she was "like, totally overreacting" about everything, right? I didn't understand why she'd get so mad at me for leaving towels on the floor. Or for letting my laundry pile up for a week before taking it all down to the laundry room. Or why it was such a big deal to leave a glass sitting on the table for hours after I was done with it. I mean, she would eventually pick it up anyway. No biggie.

Had you told me that one day I would be just like her, I probably would've rolled my eyes and said, "Uh, whatever." (I was a charming teenager.) Little did I know...

The first time I heard her words fall from my lips, I nearly passed out. I FINALLY got it. I was living with a slob of a roommate and it was wearing on my patience. It seemed like every time I cleaned the house, she'd come through and mess it up. I'd wash dishes, and she'd leave five dirty ones on the counter with food stuck on them. We had a dishwasher. What was the problem?! She'd leave clean dishes in the dishwasher for DAYS if I didn't unload them. It was driving me mad. One day I snapped. I said, "Do you think that this thing just unloads itself?! NO. I do it! Every time!" Then I froze in terror and had a small panic attack when I realized that, not only did I speak my mother's words, but they came out in the exact same tone of voice that she always used when she was frustrated with me. Whoa! When did that happen?

Since then (after five years of various roommates with various degrees of nastiness), I've really come to understand her years of frustration with me. It's exhausting to spend so much time and energy cleaning, then have someone come through and mess it all up in a matter of minutes.

And it's not just the cleaning thing. Oh, no. Our similarities run much deeper. For instance, I also inherited her totally inappropriate sense of humor, which leaves me giggling uncontrollably when I see someone fall down. And her dyslexia of the mouth that makes me say things like "trow slucks" when I really mean "slow trucks." Oh, or what about the ability to invent all new words, like "expressionful," when I really mean "expressive." Yep. I got that too. The goods just keep coming.

But you know what? I've come to realize that being like Mama isn't such a bad thing. In fact, I'd be pretty proud if someone compared me to her. Know why? Because, despite all of our past bickering, I've discovered that Mama is a pretty cool person. She's strong and funny and completely unafraid to say what she thinks. She stands up for what she thinks is right and does things her own way. And she's not afraid to laugh at herself. I like that.

So all in all, I might be turning into my mom in some ways - but that's okay. Things could be worse. I could still be a moody teenager who rolls her eyes and says, "Whatever."