Generations of Crazy

I watched Lyla run upstairs and then back downstairs faster than she ever has before. It appeared she was on a very specific mission. She got back downstairs and frantically ran around the couches fixing up all the pillows, then quickly pushed in the stools around the bar. I was baffled and asked her what in the world she was doing. She looked directly at me and said "this is what mommies do." Her answer was quite fitting, considering her baby doll collection is currently her most treasured possession and being their mommy is her most important role.

However, I find it amusing that running around like a lunatic is how she perceives being a mommy. Obviously I am the mommy she was impersonating. She is very sweet with her babies, so I'll go ahead and take credit for that too. I think it would probably be a red flag if she was abusive or hateful towards them. Haha! She is my little shadow. I need to keep in mind more often that she is constantly studying my habits and mannerisms. As she grows, I watch those qualities manifest in her own character. Family traditions aren't the only things that get passed on through the generations.  It made me think about my own childhood and how that family dynamic has affected my adult life. I have to make a conscious effort to not obsess over certain preferences the same as my parents did. Especially since I have two toddlers! 

Disclaimer: My parents aren't really uptight as I'm about to make them sound. They are actually sensible people and my childhood was very loving and fulfilling. Continue. 

I can remember my mom being very particular about her bed. My parents bed was not a play area at any point in time, that I can remember. It was always evenly fluffed, with the sheets pulled tight and twelve [<-no exaggeration] pillows perfectly arranged. It looked like a sleeping place for royalty. If me or my brother were ever to so much as lean against the bed, we felt my mom's very unpleasant wrath. If you weren't going to sleep in it, you may as well not even risk looking at it because you might mess something up. I learned to appreciate a well made bed. Those qualities in my mom transferred to me as I remember shouting at my friends anytime they would use my bed as their personal relaxation area. I would cringe on the inside if someone ever propped their butt up against it. It was a test of true friendship to see who stuck around after getting a glimpse of my rage. Hmm, I'm doing a pretty good job of making me and my mother sound insane. BUT I gained some serious bed making skills from my mom. My brother has pretty impressive skills as well. And I've eased up on that obsession since becoming a mom myself. I still make my bed every day but it often turns into a playground for Lyla and Max. I embrace it now. It is only just a bed. However, I think I'm already rubbing off on Lyla just a little. Kirk was trying to score brownie points and made the bed on Sunday. It was a sweet gesture. Lyla let out a big sigh and said, "Oh look mom, dad did the pillows wrong." I nodded approvingly and gave her a giant hug. 

I can think of several silly habits my dad passed my direction too. I will share just one. He  built our house from the ground up with pretty much his own two hands, so I can understand why he would be a little protective over it. He surpassed the "little" part though. I remember hearing the garage door open, signaling my dad was home from work. I would rush all my friends into my room in order to create the illusion for my dad that we were not making a mess elsewhere. I would quickly empty the kitchen sink by filling the dishwasher and then dry the sink. [yes, I said dry the sink.] Drops of water in the sink were an appalling image for my dad. Sinks are not intended for moisture! Uhh. Yeah. Just go with it. As as I mentioned above about my mom, I preferred to avoid his unpleasant wrath as well. I created a scary image of my dad for my friends and once they actually got to know him, they expressed how silly they thought I was being. They saw my dad as an easy going, really funny dude. And he is! But he's a freak about his sink. He was also a freak about his black granite counter tops. He made us wear those cheap cotton gloves if we wanted to eat at the kitchen counter. Ahh, no. I'm joking about that last part. I could totally picture him doing that though. In retrospect, I wonder if he realistically thought that type of counter would remain immaculate with two kids living in the house. I think he could have saved himself a lot of grief by maybe choosing a different color. Hmm, I'll have to follow up with him on that one. Anyway, back in the day I found my dad's request for a constant spotless sink to be so annoying. But now I possess that desire. Thanks a lot dad. 

I can't decide if these kooky traits that exist in me are a blessing or a curse. I'm grateful for them to be honest, but I'm curious what kinds of traumatic memories I am creating for Lyla and Max.  I don't blame my parents though. It's just how life works. We all come from the same mold. My mom recalls a memory of her own mom [my gram] requiring her to vacuum herself out of the house to avoid destroying the precious vacuum lines on the carpet. That sounds extreme even for a fruitcake like myself...but I get it. I too can appreciate the beauty in fresh vacuum lines.