I’m Turning Into My Mother

I’m turning into my mother.

Well, really, my sweet Irish mother passed away at 54, so I don’t know what she would have been like as an old lady.

I’m turning into everyone else’s mother.

And I don’t think I like it. But I can’t do anything about it.

I always used to wonder why my father-in-law was such a bastard when he got older. He hated everything (except his grandkids), enjoyed trash talking everything from politics to ethnicities. And he enjoyed it.

Now I’m not a bear like he was, but I find that more and more things are just bugging the heck out of me. Like I’ve constantly got an itch that I can’t scratch.

Like politics. Not getting into ANY discussions, but damn, someone should take Twitter away from that man. The news about his son, his staff, all just makes me sick.

Or traffic. I went into the city a few weeks ago and it bugged the heck out of me. Drivers are ignorant. They wander where they want to when they want to. And forget about signals. That’s as foreign as Jiaozi (Chinese dumplings).

I love old time rock and roll music (thanks, Bob Seeger), but not screamy high pitched or eternal guitar solos, especially at 7 am when I’m going to work or 4 pm when I’m headed home. Its the same old songs on the same old radio stations…no wonder I’m beginning to hate Styx.

See what I mean? I’m turning into one of those old crabby ass people.

My idea of a summer evening is sitting on the deck, listening to the birds and all, feeling the breeze on my cheeks. No parties, no barbeques…just peace and quiet.

That’s an old person’s favorite thing to do.

My idea of music at work is upbeat classical or smooth jazz. Who can listen to Metallica or Green Day while you’re typing figures?

That’s an old person’s view of music.

I really try not to fall into the black hole of old peoplehood. I run around with my grandkids, go to Gaelic Storm concerts, go for walks for exercise a couple of times a week. I love reading, writing, and doodling. I try new food and don’t care for most of it.

Maybe it’s just that I’ve had a lifetime of politics where nothing has changed. Friends of mine went to the Peace Corps after high school. They are still bombing where they visited. People are bringing guns into schools and shooting anything that moves.

The names have changed but the situations haven’t.

That’s why I’d rather sit and watch grass grow. I’m not afraid that it’s going to come to my house and murder me in my sleep or steal my car or bomb my apartment.

Maybe that’s not being old after all. Maybe it’s just being smart.

11 thoughts on “I’m Turning Into My Mother

  1. At 66 I know I look like my mother and if I didn’t know it, I’d still be reminded by everyone who ever knew her. The thing about my mom, though, is she actually died laughing. She had broken a hip at 87-years-old and was in physical therapy one afternoon at the ballet bar when the therapists with her were joking around with her and she broke out in her famous hysterical laugh and suddenly collapsed. She had been a victim of Alzheimer’s disease and seldom knew who I was even though I saw her nearly every day. But in her days before she was 83, she was constantly busy and even mowed her own 5 acres in the middle of Texas summer. So when I look in the mirror I just smile when I see her. I stay busy, too and I’m hoping I die laughing.


    1. I am sorry your mother is gone, but how could I not smile that she was smiling when she left? I am built like my mother, but look like my father, both of whom have passed along. My mother was a feisty Irish woman, red hair and all. And it’s not so much I’m turning into her but I’m turning into what I think all old people are like. Ha.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. To quote Simon and Garfunkel in the song Mrs. Robinson: “going to the candidates debate: laugh about it shout about it when you’ve got to chose; anyway you look at it you lose.” So I just put on my rose colored glasses and enjoy life.


  3. Old is a state of mind. You know that. Smart is ageless. May your maturing years be filled with reasons to live, love, laugh, and celebrate the joys of walks, grandkids, dances, and watching green grass grow. Our mothers may not have had the advantages we do. But we do! Praise God 👍🏽❤️


  4. My young sister says I’m looking more like my dad every day. I’m happy with that, and especially if I become as gentle and kind as he was in his older age, (91 years old). I’m off on my Pacific Cruise, Easter Saturday, and I’ll report back after my trip, to tell you how old and grumpy I’m feeling, OR, how young and invigorated I’m feeling. xxx


  5. “Maybe it’s just that I’ve had a lifetime of politics where nothing has changed.”–I think you’re spot on there. I’ve always enjoyed politics–hearing the pundits talk, discussing it with family members, etc.–but no more. Now I can barely stand listening to the news. It just puts me in a foul mood. I’d like to think it’s temporary with the current environment, but I think it’s more what you said: nothing has changed. So I’ve just become disgruntled with it.


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