Genetics

I miss my Grandma. When I was little, she would let me steal Certs breath mints from her purse and she always had a kleenex tucked in the elastic in her sleeve. All of us grand kids would snicker every time she pulled one of the wadded tissues out.

Not long ago, I caught my mom with a kleenex in her hand and as she began to wad it up, I gasped, "You better not be getting ready to tuck that in your sleeve!" She laughed and assured me that she was only putting it in her pocket. I chided her that the pocket is only the first step. Next stop....sleeve. In a similar scene, while she was visiting, my son asked for a tissue. Mom whipped one out from her pocket and I began to tease her for becoming her mother. Relentlessly.

No matter how much you love your family, you don't want to become your mother. I don't know why that is. I admire my Mom and she has many great qualities. Yet, when my brother chides that I'm becoming her, I go into battle mode. (of course, he is turning into a little "mini-me" of my Dad, so there's not much room for him to talk).

My office is in the basement and this morning, before I came down to my computer, I remembered that I hadn't taken my Allegra last night. My allergies were killing me! As I grabbed a couple kleenexes and stuck them into the pocket of my sweatshirt. I stopped dead in my tracks and looked around to see if anyone was looking. Luckily for me, in my own house at 5:20am, everyone is in bed and there is nobody around but me.

I'm doomed.