How to Turn into Your Mother

It’s Friday night — nice out, too. Every other college student is probably out and about — partying, preparing for the next football game, or even just hanging out.

I’m standing in the middle of my kitchen, making brownies, dancing to music I wouldn’t tell anyone I actually listen to, realizing that I’m turning into my mother.

“I’m standing in the middle of my kitchen, making brownies, dancing to music I wouldn’t tell anyone I actually listen to, realizing that I’m turning into my mother.”

Not that this is a bad thing, but it’s a startling realization to come by. When you’re growing up, people always tell you that this is going to happen, but you just brush it off and laugh. You say there’s no way you could ever turn out like that!

..of course, this is when you are younger and haven’t come to the realization that sometimes, parents do actually know best.

My mom always said I’d figure that out one day. I’m not sure if I’m still in denial or not, but I’m probably coming around to her sense of reasoning. It’s proven, given the plans I have tonight.

My mom bakes. Every weekend, you can find her in the kitchen whipping up some new treat while listening to music from her iPhone.

Sometimes, the mood will find her in the middle of the week and she’ll sit in the living room, where the noise of the beaters won’t wake my night-working father, as she stirs up ingredients in the middle of the floor.

Tonight, I was in a the baking mood. I quickly turned into the grocery store and picked up some ingredients for my grandmother’s special brownie recipe. When I got home, I got everything out and started whipping it together.

Exact measuring? Nah, what’s the fun in that? Let’s throw in some cinnamon sugar just to see what happens.

Ed Sheeran and David Guetta? Yes. We could also threw some Taylor Swift in there, but that’s not the point, because her new songs are really catchy.

Now, I’m dancing around this kitchen to Titanium when I’m hit with a sense of deja-vu. Nothing I could ever do would be more like my mother in this particular moment.

Except, my mom usually lets me and my siblings lick the beaters clean and I just hogged everything to myself tonight.

It’s strange to sit down and think that I’m growing up to be like my parents. We all want to grow into our own skin. We want to prove our individuality. We want to grow up and rule the world. We want to do something different and make everyone proud.

But being like your parents isn’t really something you can escape. Everyone is made up of those two people. Everyone has traits from both parents. What they have to realize is that is what makes them special. You are yourself, but you’re also bits and pieces of the people who raised you. And that doesn’t particularly mean your birth parents.

Sometimes people don’t have the option of growing up with their real parents, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have family. And bits and pieces of everyone that has touched their lives are left behind in them.

I don’t see this as a bad thing. It just means that when the people you love are gone from this world, there are still little things left behind, in you and me.

Whether it’s your parents, or siblings, or significant other: something will be left behind. Something will wear off on you. Maybe it will be a love for prancing around the kitchen, making brownies, while singing at the top of your lungs or maybe it will be something else.

I used to think growing up to be like either of my parents a bad thing. But now I see it as an honor. I will proudly stand up for what I believe in like my mother. I will refuse to be stepped on or ignored, just like my father taught me. I will spend Friday nights curled up with a book or watching a TV show; because that’s something I love just like the rest of my family.

Being in college thrusts you into a world where your family isn’t around as often. That wasn’t something I was particularly prepared for. I don’t think anyone is prepared for it really. But it’s truly okay. Because you meet new people, and you find new family; not people who replace the old ones, but people who join them and love you just as much.

And, in the end, you still have the people who are waiting for you back home. You have them in the way you talk, the way you act, and in the things you believe in. And maybe, just maybe, you have them in the way you bake brownies.

  • Shelbi Brown

    This is complete truth. Great job.