Duhn, duhn, DUUUUUUHHNNN!
Por ejemplo: I actually celebrated Mother’s Day AS A MOTHER, not as an innocent bystander with flowers, card, and candy in hand.
Okay, I get it. Turning into your mom just because you become a mom doesn't count. So, to be clearer, here are the Top Ten more pertinent examples that chronicle my slow decent into “Janet-hood”.
Top Ten Signs That I’m Turning Into My Mother
- In the winter, I turn the heater down so low, HBL and I have to wear socks, thermals, and down parkas inside our home. However, I let him start a fire while I pull out the blankets, so we can melt the icicles hanging from our noses
- I have no problem bogarting a conversation by talking about my son
- I annoyingly ask HBL questions about a movie while he’s watching it
- I give good Silent Treatment (ask HBL)
- I have no problem wearing pajamas in broad daylight to drop someone off in my car - if I can manage to find a pair of fuzzy green and white socks like my mom’s, then I will become her doppelganger
- I fall asleep, mid sentence, while talking… wait, no. I don’t do that! My mom still owns that one. Though at least now, as a sleep-deprived mother myself, I have an understanding as to why it happened to her, and why it happened so often
- I sneeze so loud I scare my child
- I feel refreshed after getting only four hours of sleep
- I love PDA and lots of it
- Lots of times, it’s a fight to the death between me and my bladder, while I run to the bathroom after a car ride
- I have mastered The Disapproving Glance, a.k.a. The Stink Eye (as practiced on my husband)
I love you, mom! Otherwise, my metamorphosis would be unbearably painful.