The Scandinavian Mother
Oct. 1st, 2007 10:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pen_gruntWhile driving home from a long day of cataloging Grandparent donation items (more on that little personal hell later), I asked Derrick whether he thought I was more like my mother, or more like my father. After having spent the day with both (and having experienced minor irritations with both, as well as some "ah ha!" moments) I noticed my mother acting like her mother, or saying things that I recognized coming out of my own mouth. Now I've also noticed, in Derrick, that his mannerisms can generally be clearly attributed to either his mother or his father. I was wondering if the same was true for me.
He thought for a moment and said, "I think you're more like your mother." I've never thought of myself as particularly like my mother because our interests are so incredibly different. Becky has always gotten along with mom better as she fulfills the like-to-shop-and-cook-and-sew daughter role.
So I asked, "In what ways am I like my mother?"
His eyebrows shot up, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, and a slightly panicked look came to his face. I may have seen beads of sweat, but I think that was just dirt from cleaning out the Grandparents' garage (yay for big blocks of solid lead---wanna lick?). I think that, "How am I like my mother?" may be one of those questions that's up there with, "Do these pants make me look fat?" I'm not sure that guys think there's a right answer to them (err, yes? I mean, no more than usual, err...um...of course not?).
But I really wanted to know. I told him that it wasn't a trick question--and that I don't consider being like my mother a bad thing. He explained that I react to things in the way my mother does--taking an event in stride, being positive and generally a happy gee-whiz-there-it-is person. He then pointed out that although I have some of my mother's good nature, I was more like my father in my range of emotions.
You see, my mother just has different shades of happy. She'll tell you matter-o-factly that her dog died, then give you a hug, smile, and ask you if you want to go shopping Thursday. People mistake this for ditzy behavior--but it's really eternal Scandinavian optimism that my Grandmother also possessed. My Grandmother's most severe scold was, for the record, "Oh honestly..." or "Oh Harold..." Negative, for her, was a few clucks of the tongue and a head shake--then it was business as usual.
Come to think of it, Saturday my mother told me that doctors discovered she had arthritis in her spine--and, "Did you know, that's the reason my fingers were numb in one hand?" she chirps. Golly gee whiz. Earlier that day, in the exact same tone of voice she asked me, "Did you know that we have ice cream in the freezer?"
Ice cream, spinal arthritis, ice cream, spinal arthritis....same level of happy. Ahh, mother.
He thought for a moment and said, "I think you're more like your mother." I've never thought of myself as particularly like my mother because our interests are so incredibly different. Becky has always gotten along with mom better as she fulfills the like-to-shop-and-cook-and-sew daughter role.
So I asked, "In what ways am I like my mother?"
His eyebrows shot up, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, and a slightly panicked look came to his face. I may have seen beads of sweat, but I think that was just dirt from cleaning out the Grandparents' garage (yay for big blocks of solid lead---wanna lick?). I think that, "How am I like my mother?" may be one of those questions that's up there with, "Do these pants make me look fat?" I'm not sure that guys think there's a right answer to them (err, yes? I mean, no more than usual, err...um...of course not?).
But I really wanted to know. I told him that it wasn't a trick question--and that I don't consider being like my mother a bad thing. He explained that I react to things in the way my mother does--taking an event in stride, being positive and generally a happy gee-whiz-there-it-is person. He then pointed out that although I have some of my mother's good nature, I was more like my father in my range of emotions.
You see, my mother just has different shades of happy. She'll tell you matter-o-factly that her dog died, then give you a hug, smile, and ask you if you want to go shopping Thursday. People mistake this for ditzy behavior--but it's really eternal Scandinavian optimism that my Grandmother also possessed. My Grandmother's most severe scold was, for the record, "Oh honestly..." or "Oh Harold..." Negative, for her, was a few clucks of the tongue and a head shake--then it was business as usual.
Come to think of it, Saturday my mother told me that doctors discovered she had arthritis in her spine--and, "Did you know, that's the reason my fingers were numb in one hand?" she chirps. Golly gee whiz. Earlier that day, in the exact same tone of voice she asked me, "Did you know that we have ice cream in the freezer?"
Ice cream, spinal arthritis, ice cream, spinal arthritis....same level of happy. Ahh, mother.
