I’m Turning into My Mother... And That’s Okay

I was about to embark on my first ever sleepover field trip with my class. We were heading down to Washington DC on the traditional 8th grade trip. That year, jelly shoes were all the rage. All I wanted was a pair of clear jelly shoes to wear on my 8th grade trip to DC.

The day before we were to leave, my mom took me to every store imaginable to find them. We kept striking out and then on a whim we went to Lord & Taylor at the mall. A store we could never afford but nevertheless this was important. There were the jelly shoes, in all their glory and in my size. My mom bought them of course; the cost didn’t matter. She wanted me to have them but not because she wanted to spoil me or because she wanted to give me everything I wanted. She bought them for me because she is that kind of person. The kind of person who would move heaven and earth to make someone happy. The kind of person who goes out of their way, taking shirts off their back to put a smile on someone else’s face.

I find myself looking at my life as a spectator lately. I’m standing at the forefront of a situation watching my interactions wondering what kind of person I am. It’s the strangest feeling to be in the audience of your life.

My mom & me

There is an older woman walking down the street every day. I drive by every day and each day I find myself waving at her. She is so adorable and so dedicated to walking with her cane and trendy glasses. I watch myself waving and smiling at her every day and think, that’s my mom.

I’m in the grocery store and there is an older man waiting at the deli counter with me. He looks over at me as I take my cheese from the man.  He tells me he loves cheese. I can tell he wants to chat and despite being in a crazy hurry I chat with him about cheese, smile, laugh, and as I leave telling him to have a great day. I watch over this interaction realizing, that’s my mom.

There is a young girl trying to get into the music store with her big guitar case. I run across the store and open the door for her calling her sweetie. I can see this happening. I can see my mom.

Every girl in my daughter’s gymnastics class got a brand new gym branded leotard except one girl. There was one left and I was standing right there as the girl quietly asked her mom if she could have it. Her mom wondered how much it was and said she’d think about it. I nearly spoke up saying I would buy it for her. I don’t have extra money for that but the mere thought of her daughter missing out made my heart ache. I wanted to buy it and almost did. I stand by watching myself aching wanting to buy it while stressing about my own bills. That is my mom.

There is a new girl at my daughter’s school in her grade. On the field trip I see little, beautiful girl standing by the teacher rather than other kids. She wants to hold the teacher’s hand as if she doesn’t have other friends. I pulled my daughter aside and told her to be friendly with her and include her. I tell her every day now to do something nice for someone. I see this happening between me and my daughter. I see me and my mom.

It’s wear your favorite team shirt day at school but my daughter doesn’t follow anything but gymnastics. She wants a Simone Biles shirt to wear. I can’t find one anywhere. It’s 11 p.m. the night before as I make her a Simone Biles shirt to wear the next day. She wakes up so excited and grateful. I stand by and watch over knowing it’s my mom.

I’m watching myself turn into my mother. I’m not meaning to but I can’t help myself. My whole life I was taught by watching her; one selfless act after another. Now every situation I watch myself doing exactly what she would do. I’m turning into my mother and that’s okay. I wouldn’t have it any other way.