I Am My Mother’s Son…

Sperry Genes Rule

Every once in a while, I say something, do something, or yes, forget something, that is so completely my mom, that it stops me in my tracks. Okay, we might be able to alter that intro to “with some regularity.” All right, all right, “with great frequency” it is. Get off my back. But those moments still take me by surprise. Chris? Not so much. Case in point…

We were trying to schedule dinner with friends Don and Mary. LOVE dinner with Don and Mary. She’s a federal judge. He’s sells advertising for a local rock radio station. Dinner conversations are always exciting, but I digress… And so does my mom. Starting to get the point? Any way, all four of us were going back and forth with one another via multiple communications channels trying to schedule an evening out, and inevitably, the dates got crossed, and the reservation lost. And yes, I might be the one to blame, but you can’t blame a guy for trying, right? So I’m okay with that. And so is my mom.

And then there was the time when Chris and I were to meet other friends for drinks, were running late, so texted them that we were on our way, only to find out after arriving — via their text — that we were actually supposed to meet them the following Saturday. Yeah, that was me, too.

At the completion of yet another scheduling fiasco, Chris looked up from his computer and said dryly: “Angel, please quit trying to schedule evenings with our friends… Just look at your calendar, dress appropriately, and show up with money in your pocket.”

I was going to argue the point, but then I remembered my last post, and realized I didn’t have a leg to stand on. It clearly speaks to more of the same. And you can be damn sure I didn’t tell Chris about that experience. Way too much ammunition. I just kept that one to myself and blogged about it. Trust me, I knew the moment he discovered it. Between fits of laughter, I think he said something like, “It’s like living with your mom, but like she’s got a high-powered job that keeps getting busier and busier.” I joined in the laughter. It’s all true! Why fight it? I completely shed my work identity when I walk through the door at home. I admit that. Corporate Alan goes away. And maybe I let a few organizational behaviors slide. And that’s a strong maybe. But every day, somehow we manage to get fed, the dogs get fed, the bird gets fed, vet appointments get made and kept, house plants get watered, cars get washed, and everybody feels the love — with a capital L.

Bottom line? Don’t underestimate my mom. She loves with the capital L, and she is organized — with a capital O. No one runs a household like her: 8 kids, 35 grandkids, and a gestating generation of great grandkids that I can’t even keep up with. But she can. And she does. Not a birthday goes forgotten. Not a school achievement goes unnoticed. And she doesn’t use Word, Excel or Outlook to stay in the game. She just knows. Scary. This, however, is more about the fact that there are some things in my relationship with Chris at which I excel, and others which I should simply leave to him, and vice verse. We both have our talents. We both have our faults. And I’m sure the same goes for my mom and dad. I just tend to favor my mom. When it comes to the nurturing, the caring, the over-sized dinner portions, the re-filling the plate without being asked, the green thumb, the love of children, the challenges with technology, the love of color and perspective, the giggle, the laugh, the cough, the nose that runs when it’s cold, the need to be shoeless, the quick tears when moved by something beautiful, and yes, the mid-sentence stop because I have no idea what I was going to say, or the mid-room stop  because I have no idea why I was walking there in the first place, it’s those Sperry genes.  I get it all from Mom. I am my mom. And I’m absolutely fine with that. In fact, I love it. Funny, my dad always says, “there’s only one, and I got her.” Chris? Well, he may beg to differ…


3 thoughts on “I Am My Mother’s Son…

  1. John begs to differ as well. Billy and Melody went to FHE last week w/o me (I was sick) and came home saying, “I can’t believe how much you are like your mom!”

  2. This is such a beautiful tribute to your mother. So glad to catch up with you earlier this evening.

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