Becoming my parents...

We all know the story of Freaky Friday: a girl and a mom mindlessly wish to switch places, and poof! They're in eachother's bodies for some period of time.


I suppose I had my own Manic Monday moment today. I was at work, thinking about things other than work, when I suddenly realized I was like my dad. Usually a girl would say "I'm turning into my mother" but I already knew that was true. I've had that drilled into my head since I was about 5. "You're just as stubborn" "You look just like her" "Kathy, is that you?" "What a Fowkes!"


But I realized that many of the quirks manifesting themselves lately are my father's. For instance, when I was a kid, my dad would insist on reading me poems. I'm not sure if it was his tone of voice, or his choice of poetry, but I hated it. I'd much rather he sing me a song than read me a poem that didn't make any sense to me. Looking back, I think I secretly liked it, because I'd always end up smiling, but then insist, "No, I didn't like it."


I was such a brat.


But I must have liked it, because now at 22, I find myself fawning over poetry, and most often those that my dad read to me. I'll probably read poetry to my kids, and if they're anything like their mother, they'll insist they hate it, too.


Another example. My dad used to sing all the time in the morning. This puzzled my mom, who wondered what kind of man she was dating that whistled showtunes while making breakfast. But then she visited her in-laws, and heard the same song coming from the kitchen, only this time, my grandmother was singing it. This phenomenon startled me as well. I mean, how did two people know the same song to sing in the morning?


But then here I am, waking up, taking a shower, and walking thru the halls of my school, humming to myself, "Good morning, good moooorning. Ain't it great to stay up late? Good morning, good morning, to you!" I think the kids have the same reaction on their faces as my mom had toward my dad.


Oh yeah, what triggered all of this was that I have started writing little limmericks in letters I've been writing. I realized that my dad did this ALL THE TIME. Usually they were cute, but no Walt Whitman. But he really enjoyed them. He'd always ask me if I liked his poem. I'm not sure if he wrote them for me, or for himself. I suppose it might not really matter. And now I'm doing the same thing, almost instinctively.


I'm a mess.


What makes this even more interesting is that I didn't even confer with my father before adopting these traits. It's not like I said to myself, "My dad likes poetry, so I will too!" Or, "My dad doesn't associate politics with religion, neither will I!" (I'm still working that out) Or my favorite, "My dad doesn't take things at face value; so I'm going to ask 100 questions too!" I just...well...did. I admit that I'm a daddy's girl, but more so for affection and the occasional $20, not to adopt his behavior.


Maybe it's the nature within me, or the nurture that raised me, but either way I'm becoming my parents. Which must mean I'm becoming an adult.


Aren't YOU lucky?