My father has been trying to shape me my entire life.
Unfortunately for him, I turned out exactly like my mother. And she didn't even try to influence me. It just happened.
You see, she is a shopaholic too. My entire childhood consisted of her calling me into the master bedroom to show off her latest blouse, necklace, or lipstick. "I'm hiding it in my closet," she would whisper each time. "Don't tell your father. This is between you and me." And of course I was never left out. She would always pick me up something equally fab and unnecessary. A bottle of perfume, a cardigan, or a fancy diary.
Now that she's older, her purchases have become a little stranger. While I am now the one spending hundreds of dollars on shoes, bags, and dresses, she will spend the same amount on birdcages, commemorative plates, and holiday decorations. And now we both have the "don't tell Dad" policy. I even sometimes hide purchases from Rian because sometimes he has the tendency to get a little like my father...("You bought WHAT?!"). And of course, I never leave my mom out either. She survives among her 20-something-year-old coworkers with the cute Kathy Von Zeeland bags I pick up for her every season.
Other things my mom and I have in common: addiction to red wine, ability to justify bad decisions ("I can have this piece of chocolate cake today because it's Sunday. It's practically a holiday!" or "Why is it such a big deal if I get sloshed Thursday night? It's practically the weekend!" etc.), our obsession with Desperate Housewives, and our determination to never leave the house without makeup on ("You never know when you're going to run into Brad Pitt").
But I think the most bizarre trait I inherited from my mother is an obsession with baby animals. Because my childhood is also filled with incidents where my mom finds wild baby creatures in our backyard and nurses them into adults.
(I attempted this a month or so ago with some wild rabbits and I failed miserably).
But now my mom and I have a project together. I was visiting my parents this morning when we came across a baby robin. His parents had rejected him because he fell from the nest. So obviously, against my dad's annoyed protests, my mom and I carried the poor little thing off into the garage and gave it a new home. We have this fantasy that once we nurse it into an adult, the robin will be like a member of the family. Perhaps fly around the house and sing a beautiful melody. Or maybe even one day deliver important messages for us, like in Harry Potter. Who knows. The possibilities are endless!
Sadly, the little bird isn't very attractive. In fact, he's extremely gruesome and looks like something out of a horror film. But I think after a few days of love and care, he will gain some beauty. And if he's nice, we might introduce him to his future best friend, Lily (my mother's stylish lovebird).
After all, with mothers like us, the dirty little robin has no choice but to turn out fab!
The new robin in his temporary home
Lily in her posh home