Fighting the Inner Mom
My battle with becoming her

Photo Illustration by Ricky Riley| VOX Staff

By Willamae Boling | VOX Staff

One Monday night after my family finished eating supper, my mom and I made a deal: I would clean the kitchen, and she would walk the dog. I was happy enough with our decision. It was hot and nasty outside, and I had no desire to leave the house. My mom said she needed exercise, so who was I to take that desire away from her? I got up and started to clean. By the time I emptied and reloaded the dishwasher, and my mom hadn’t moved from her fetal position on the couch in our dining room, I started to get upset. Then, when I glared at her, the only response I got was, “I have a headache.” I’d had enough.

“Get your lazy a$$ up and walk the dog!” I yelled. Then, I gasped. It wasn’t an “I can’t believe I just said that to her” gasp, it was an “Oh my god” gasp. I’d just said the most “momish” words that had ever come out of my mouth. With that, I realized I was turning into my mom. It was not something I wanted to accept. But it was so amazing and ludicrous that I let the words slip out of my mouth.

“My god, I sound just like you!” I told her. Then my mom laughed at me. I can’t really blame her; I would have done the same thing. Laughing is a part of the status quo for my family. It always has been, and it probably always will be. We don’t have heart to heart conversations; instead, we make snide remarks and bad jokes in passing. Then we laugh it off. Usually, my mom stands out though. My dad makes puns, and I’m apparently a smart ass, but my mom is sort of the familiar straight man. I mean, sure, she laughs at our bad jokes, but she hardly ever makes any.

Besides sounding like her, another strange habit I seem to be picking up from my mom is her knack for cleaning. I hate to clean, but I’ll do it. I mean, I won’t clean my room, just bathrooms. I loathe dirty bathrooms with a fiery, burning passion. The Sunday after my first “mom moment,” I was visiting a friend and had just finished dyeing her hair. I needed to wash the blue dye off my hands, so I went into her bathroom, washed my hands and noticed cat litter was stuck to my feet. I went crazy! I called my friend into the room and announced, “You’re not waiting until I leave to clean this place up. We’re doing it now!” She shrugged and helped me with my frenzied cleaning.

I knew it was drastic, rude even. My mom probably wouldn’t have cleaned that floor because she’s far too lazy for that. However, she would have recognized the floor needed cleaning. My mom thinks that it’s her duty to tell others to clean, and I do too. But since I’m the kid, she usually makes me do it. The big difference between my mom and me is motivation. She’s vaguely motivated for almost everything. I’m not motivated at all for most things, but I have the drive for a few things that nobody else really wants to do. That’s why I cleaned the floor.

My mother has many quirks I hope I never pick up from her. One of those is her sense of style. Don’t get me wrong; I love her to death, but bright yellow Crocs are a fashion statement I don’t want to make. Another thing I don’t want to inherit from her is the drive to destroy. Well, she doesn’t see it as destroying. She says it’s “renovation.” From the day I was born, my life has been a constant home repair project. Mom is always fixing something. Not that knowing what you want is the bad thing, but her drive can send me up a wall. Honestly, I don’t want to grow up and be just like her — mostly because I have no desire to spend my weekends alternately cleaning and ruining my house. I just want to live in a nice place that isn’t falling down. I wouldn’t mind being an artist like my mom, but art hasn’t really been profitable for her, and I, unlike her, want money.

I never thought that I would be turning into my mom. I’ve always thought that it was just a cliché parents said. I’m a natural born skeptic, so I guess it makes sense that I never believed that could happen. Unfortunately, I know now that many people feel like they’re turning into their moms. Some day, even your coolest friends will realize that they’re turning into their mothers. This isn’t the kind of situation you make the most of, it’s the kind of thing that you, like me, will survive.

Willamae is a kid at Grady High who won’t stop dancing to the Wizard Rock.