No matter how you slice it folks, eventually, we do turn into our parents — like it or not. This welcome or dreaded transformation, however we see this phenomenon, does happen — at least, according to my oldest daughter who recently looked at me and said, “Oh my God. It’s true, we really do turn into our parents.”
I can’t remember what I did, just what she said. Catching me by surprise, I really had no good comeback. Not surprising though. I have never been quick on my feet verbally. My forte has always been the pen and paper.
I thought long and hard about her comments though. Was she right?
My mother and I were as different as night and day. She was pragmatic, organized and lived an orderly life with rules and grace. I am scattered, flighty, flexible to a fault, and live by the seat of my pants.
And yet…
There it was, staring me in the face or staring me down actually, and the more I thought, the more I realized my daughter was, in fact, not too far from wrong.
A few things that mimic my mom which I never would have done, say, five years ago, seem to keep popping up. For instance, I now park my car in the shade when the dog days of summer come around. I could have cared less where I parked before. And I swear I look to the heavens and say, “yeah, Ma,” now I understand.
My daughter says my gestures also mimic my mom of late. Things I say and do are suddenly reminiscent of my mother.
If we believe this phenomenon to be true, do our kids then, somehow, unwittingly turn into a younger version of us?
Will my darling daughters, little by little, become me as I slip into my mom’s shadow until it begins to meld with my own? And, apparently it already has. Will my son grow into his father?
When your adult children talk like they are smarter, more respectful, more savvy and just plan nicer then the generation coming up behind them, you know they are getting older, which means you are also, well … you get it.
When they talk about “kids today” having a sense of entitlement and no values, it is a bit disconcerting when we ourselves probably said the same thing about them when they were in their 20s.
And then it hits me … my kids have turned into grownups, or, me and their dad, a couple of decades before. Part of me is so very proud of the adults they have become; the other part wants them back in snuggly sleepers cuddled up on the sofa with me as I read them bedtime stories. Very unsettling feelings these days it seems. Maybe we begin to feel more like our parents as we see our own kids growing older. Not wanting to believe we will age is a nice thought, albeit, an unrealistic one.
Every time I drop something from hands that just don’t work as they did 10 years ago I apologize to my mother — out loud mind you, for not being more understanding to the ailments that plagued her for so many years.
Every time I walk somewhere with my kids and realize it takes real effort to keep up, I apologize to my mom for not understanding more that it took her a little more time to get there than someone 23 years her junior.
When I hear my oldest daughter complain about the sense of entitlement today’s millennials possess, or my son say he is old because he sees a young man souping up an old Honda engine with turbo as he did at that age, or my youngest daughter say to her daughter as I stumble over the name of a new cartoon character, “You hear this Alyssa, this is how you will be talking to me in 20 years,” I think maybe yeah, we do turn into one another’s roles, each of us when the time and age is right.
Watching our kids move from “kiddom” into adulthood, although wonderful, has its share of emotional upheaval. When you are younger you think you are invincible and nothing will change because you won’t allow it to. But even diehard Baby Boomers may have to admit at some point that we are not as fast and not as tough as we once were. And when we see our kids doing what we did or experiencing what we did years ago, it feels more than a little confusing.
The character Blanche Devereaux on the TV series “The Golden Girls” likened her kids to “noisy little calendars,” ticking away the years reminding her where she was in life.
Exquisitely beautiful calendars, but yes, sometimes quite boisterous.
But, maybe turning into our own version of our parents allows us the ability to see the world at a slower pace. When we are younger, we are so busy living and doing things in a hurry, we don’t have the time to see or feel what is right in front of us. Slowing down gives us that freedom.
It just takes a little getting used to — for ourselves — and for our kids, that all.
Clare Marie Celano is a correspondent with Greater Media Newspapers. She may be reached at [email protected]