Becoming Midge

I'm sure I spent a fair amount of time in my childhood swearing I'd be different than my mother. Although I can't remember these thoughts specifically, I know they must have been there because I'm always surprised when I find myself doing something just like her. This morning as Brent and I rushed out the door he asked if I wanted to drop off the dry cleaning since I was working from home (clearly... I'm getting a lot of work done right now :)). We have a drive-through dry cleaner one block over with THE nicest Asian man and his wife. It only made sense to take care of that so Brent went into the front hall closet and got out the box of shirts that need to be dry cleaned... exactly the same place where my mother put my father's shirts that needed to be dry cleaned. I don't know why, but when Brent and I meshed our things and organized our apartment it only made sense to put a box there for dry cleaning.

Mom always used two pillowcases on her pillows and Brent wondered why I agitated one night when the bedsheets weren't completely dry and we had to sleep on *gasp* pillows with only ONE pillowcase. Speaking of pillows, our bed has a set of soft pillows for sleeping on and firmer ones for reading, just like Mom had for every bed in the house. I didn't MEAN to do it... it just made sense.

I've taken Mom's philosophy when it comes to cooking as well. Just learn how to make a few dishes really well and from there just do what's easy but tasty. To this day Mom worries she's ruined me because cooking to me is like going to a dental appointment... where the dentist does all the work with his feet. Mom also prefers to do other things than stand at a stove in the kitchen. Like quilt for example... I like to quilt too.

Earlier this week I was drafting an email to the Managing Director of our division as well as Finance and I had my manager standing over my shoulder. He'd roughly state what we were trying to convey while I typed madly to form them into my own phraseology. When he'd draw a blank I'd throw out a word until he found one he liked... exactly the way Mom did when she helped me with a paper for school. I'd finish a sentence and read it back to him and he'd get excited with how the message was sounding... much like I did when Mom worked her PhD in English magic on my oh so rough rough drafts.

That's not all! I pick up all the garbage I see before getting out of the car so it's perpetually clean. I don't wake up with an alarm because I don't like to be blared at first thing in the morning. I avoid the grocery store like the plague because it feels like money down the drain. When Brent shows me a possible outfit for our girl that I hate, I lightly say, "It's not what I would have chosen." The Scott in me from my mother's side prefers plaids to florals and when I consider buying a piece of clothing it had better be well-made. When I come across something of value I DO something with it like frame it, scrapbook it, make some sort of practical use of it because I cannot stand tchotchki things that just "sit around and collect dust" as Mom used to say. When faced with something I don't know how to do, something in the back of my mind says, "This can't be THAT hard" and I figure out a way to do it. Just. Like. MOM!!!

Lately I've spent a lot of time on the phone calling Arizona. We've had the house inspected and we're trying to address all those things from the report so we can tell potential buyers that it's been inspected AND repairs have been made. Monday on the T Brent was quiet and pensive so I asked what was bothering him. He'd made a list of all the things that needed to get done and some of the house items were worrying him the most. Since work is slow for me (obviously, I'm getting SO much work done right now!) I told him I'd take care of a couple of things that were nagging him.

It was no small job, believe me but again I felt my mother's influence. She is just as comfortable in a hardware store as a quilt shop and knows how to dish with the workmen and just TALK to people in a way that was respectful while getting what she wanted at the same time. As I made these myriad phone calls and coordinated what needed to be done, I thought of my mother and how she would handle all this. She raised me right, so I don't think it's really all that different. Thanks Mom, you taught me well. I'll try to pass it along to my bambino. Perhaps one day she'll take her husband's dress shirts out of a box in the front hall closet to be dry cleaned... and think of me :)