My mother could make anybody feel guilty — she used to get letters of apology from people she didn’t even know.” -Joan Rivers

I remember the exact moment it happened. It was a Thursday, mid spring, about three years ago, it was about 5:30 in the evening… I was telling one of the kids to do something and the phrase came out of my mouth “Don’t you TAKE that tone with me young man” to Josh, then 11. I glanced to my left and caught a glimpse of myself in the bedroom mirror, and suddenly, in that moment I flash backwards some 25 years, and saw my mother with that exact look! The metamorphosis was complete, I was now my mother.

As a teenager growing up, I told myself I was going to be my own person, swore it would never happen that I was going to be different than her, cooler, more in touch with my kids, not so many rules, more freedom, ahhh yes, perfect children, perfect mother. Then they were born and that theory went out the window as I faced the terrible twos, threes, fives, sevens, eights, twelves and fourteens… I don’t have terrible children, honestly, I have to admit that for whatever reason they are usually well behaved and generally respectful (something that still makes me scratch my head).

I turn into my mother at the oddest of times, through a laugh, a comment, a sigh. For years, I fought against turning into her, but now, I see that there is no better person to turn into…she’s my hero, and best friend, she’s the one I call for advice and know I’m going to get it even when I don’t ask for it, and usually, well it’s pretty darn good advice, I think she may know what she’s talking about after all.

Of course there are always those moments in life that make me understand why some species eat their young. When I am asked “why is she (Abbie)  acting that way?”, all too often, I simply have to respond “because she’s twelve”, what else can you say when you honestly don’t have any idea why asking her to make the bed caused her to break down in tears. Or asking Josh to take the dog out and he zones me out four times, until I have to raise my voice and all because the T.V. is on and man has no attention span when that box is speaking to them (that’s another post all together).

There is a reason Joshua was born first.. God knew had Abbie been the firstborn poor Josh wouldn’t have ever had a chance to be born. Josh was the easy baby, the good toddler, the breezy easy child, and so far the calm collected adolescent. Now, he still has a chance to go insane and become the rebel teenager, but he hasn’t ever waivered in his almost 15 years, so the odds are in my favor.

Then there is Abigail.

Abbie is the drama child, the one that I know if I make it through her teenage years, I DO deserve a medal. The day the training bra got strapped on, it was as if a poltergeist took over her body, her sweet face contorts now, the eyes roll, the sighs sigh, the arms fly up in disgust… The clothes don’t match, the shoes aren’t the right color, her hair isn’t fixed just right, and “everyone else gets a boyfriend why can’t I have one?” (Yes I did say because ‘if everyone jumped off a bridge…” ). Then in an instant, she’s giggling with me about the other girls her class, the anger of the previous moment gone and she’s happy and content, telling me I’m beautiful. It makes me dizzy.

But, I am only at the mid way point, and there are many more years of teenage angst and growth to meander through, new attitudes to adjust to, new fights… boyfriends, breakups, pimples, SAT’s and well, life…

Would I trade any of it to avoid becoming my mom? No, because through the hormones, attitudes, colicky baby, constant feedings, dating, drivers permits, diapers and sippy cups and soon, college applications, I have seen my transformation from a girl to a woman, from weakness to strength, from fear to courage.

Ask my children grow, so do I, as they walk through adolescences, I am there reliving my youth not in deed but in memory. Looking into my children’s eyes, I wonder sometimes what I put my mom through, and often feel I should send a card and a gift to apologize to her, or a perhaps simple thank you note for allowing me to become someone so great.

Or both… yeah, definitely both