Phoebe Grinter – Columnist
My face, my mannerisms, my psyche. I’m turning into my mum.
I shrugged off the first few warning signs when people told me I look just like her, sound just like her, and act just like her. Now I can no longer fight the inevitable. There are too many signals, too many coincidences, and too many similarities. Maybe it’s our shared genetics, maybe I’m just getting older, or maybe the end of the world is nigh. But I can no longer deny that I am turning into my mum.
Who turned on the waterworks?
For a start, I cry at literally everything. While I used to make fun of my mum for crying all the time, I now find myself sobbing at DIY SOS, tearing up at a cute dog video, or dabbing my eyes over a Christmas advert.
Great minds drink alike
At the ripe old age of 22 I can no longer handle my drink like I could at 18. Just like my mother, one glass of wine is all it takes to make me feel tipsy. Not only does this make for a cheap night out, it also means I am in bed at a reasonable hour. Speaking of…
…I go to bed ridiculously early
10pm is late, 11pm is crazy, 12am is dangerous, and 1am is insanity. I’m beginning to acquire more staying-at-home clothes than acceptable-in-public clothes. If I could wear my dressing gown and slippers to Lidl believe me I would.
Putting Mary Poppins to shame
When I was younger my mum’s bag was a magical place where I could find anything and everything. Tissues? In the bag. Flare gun? She’s got it. Socket wrench? In the front pocket. Now my bag is just as practical as my mum’s. It is full to bursting with all sorts of random crap I probably don’t need but take everywhere with me just in case. From lip balm and chewing gum to ketchup sachets and spare socks, you can find them in my bag.
Queen of clean
My mum cleans the house 20 minutes after she just cleaned the house. I have never seen our house unclean. I never appreciated this until moving into halls at university. Now I can see why she liked to keep the house so pristine. The state of the carpets, worktops, and kitchen sink have the ability to emotionally affect me for the rest of the day.
A perfect evening
My mum’s ideal evening would be sat on the sofa with the dog watching her favourite TV shows. Four in a Bed or Come Dine with Me while dinner’s cooking. The Great British Bake Off or First Dates with a cuppa. A gritty midweek drama or Strictly Come Dancing on a Saturday. If two programmes clash you can bet she’s already got one set to record so she can watch it straight after. Now I too am hooked on these shows and will turn down a night out to curl up on the sofa and watch tele instead. We will text each other throughout, having the exact same reactions to things and always wanting the same person to win.
The dog is the favourite family member
I now completely understand where my mum is coming from when she unapologetically admits that the dog is her favourite family member. I used to be fully offended when she would tell my sister and I that the dog is her favourite child. Whenever we leave the house, be it for two minutes, two hours or two days, my mum will always say, ‘I can’t wait to go home and see my dog’. Now I can fully relate. When I go home, I am not as excited to see my family, eat a home-cooked meal, or sleep in my own bed as I am to see my dog.
While many people fear turning into their mother, is it really such a bad thing? There are much worse things that could happen to me than becoming more like my mum. After all, she can’t be that bad because she raised me and I’m brilliant.