And now for something different. Don’t worry — it’s not a regular occurence. You’ll still get your writing, networking, teching and other stuff next time.
Today I’m participating in a mass blogging! WOW! Women On Writing has gathered a group of blogging buddies to write about family relationships. Why family relationships? We’re celebrating the release of Therese Walsh’s debut novel today. The Last Will of Moira Leahy, (Random House, October 13, 2009) is about a mysterious journey that helps a woman learn more about herself and her twin, whom she lost when they were teenagers. See the widget below to read three chapters of the book.
Unless you’re a multiple, you’ve probably wondered what it’d be like to have a twin. I have. The closest most of us singles come to having a twin is meeting or hearing about a doppelganger. I’ve encountered one … twice.
The first was at an event when someone said I looked just like a relative that she almost mistook me for her. The second time happened when I came across a phone ad that I thought I blanked out on a modeling assignment (HA!).
As soon as my dad found a copy, he showed it to everyone claiming it was me. That was Dad. He took pride in his three kids that he’d bragged about us as much as possible. We never needed to worry about bragging — we had Dad for that. He was a fabulous guy. Born and raised in Brooklyn. Sold Good Humor ice cream. Had a football scholarship that he didn’t take. Went into the Air Force, which led him to Fort Worth where he met Mom.
Dad had one annoyance. He could act obnoxious at times. “Ow, my arm hurts,” I’d say.
“Want me to cut it off and make it feel better?” he’d reply. He’d often say, “Drink coffee! It puts hair on your chest.”
Sometimes he didn’t know when to quit.
And that’s a trait I’ve gotten from him! I find myself saying stuff like that to the kids, but at least I know to stop right away. I can’t imagine how it comes across with my deaf accent — maybe not funny at all. So I’ve learned to add “I’m just kidding” whenever I joke around to make sure people know I’m funning with ‘em. I’m trying to cut it out even though it’s often me being playful with the kids.
My middle child also acts this way. And like Dad, he doesn’t know when to quit.
So yes, I’ve encountered the dreaded, “Oh my gosh, I am my mom!” or “I’m channeling Dad again!”
This kind of explains why some kids from abusive homes turn around and become abusers themselves even though they hated it as children. I’m just grateful this behavior is more of an annoyance than something serious. Besides, it can be funny sometimes.
How have you found yourself copying your parents or other family members? How do you handle it?