Once, when I was five, I walked in on my mom talking to herself while she was cleaning the kitchen. I asked her who she was talking to and she stared at me a long moment before replying, “Er..little angels.”
I vowed I would never talk to myself…
Flash forward thirty + years: There are times when I think nothing can surprise me anymore, but, every once in a while, I’m proven wrong. These little surprises can be delightful or annoying. When I don’t have anyone beside me to talk to about it, I write a short, imaginary letter to any one of a few advice columnists, in my head. It’s my little way of acknowledging the little things that make me smile and whining about the things I can’t do anything about.
Smiling inner self:
Dear Abby, Prudence, and Margo…
A mom from karate class took a Kindle out and her little girl said, “Is that the R kindle or the G kindle?” These anecdotes are so darn cute when the amusing child is not your own!”
Annoyed inner self:
Dear Abby, Prudence, and Margo…
Why did the lady in front of me in the supermarket line place her big fat purse on my Doritos Ranch bag and then proceed to crunch them all up by leaning into her purse to search for her checkbook? Does she not realize she’s crunching my Doritos? ‘Cause I can hear them crunching. And why did she glare when I smiled and said, “Excuse me”, in order to pull my bag out from under her bag? And why do I always have to be behind the person paying with a check?
I don’t know when I started this habit…or why, but apparently I’ve started to this out loud while I’m cleaning the kitchen. I didn’t notice I was doing this until I caught my nine year old staring at me while I wiped down my countertops. “Who’s Abby, Margo, and Prudence?” he asked. I stared at him for a moment before answering, without thinking, “Er…little angels I talk to sometimes.”
Is there a specific moment in your memory when you realized you had turned into your mother?
