Like Mother, Like Daughter…pass the beer

It occurred to me recently that my daughter is inheriting some of my…um…well known personality traits.

This child will not stop talking. This child will flash her breasts at strangers. This child will laugh in your face if you try to discipline her. She’s knows she’s smart. She knows she’s cute. And she knows Daddy and Uncle Ronnie will give her whatever she wants. Aside from her brother, she has the men of the house wrapped.

It’s my worst fears come true.

She’s me x 100. Cuter, stronger, smarter, better.

Now this can be a great thing for her. She will be terribly successful and independent. But she’ll also drive her mother crazy in the process. Her father will just turn to alcohol at having to deal with not one Queen, but two. Poor guy.

And I am terrified the two of us will spend her teenage years shouting. I’m terrified she’ll be so much like me, that we’ll never get along. I want to give her advice on boys and clothes and life and love…but I know she will brush me off. Like I did my mother, who I am much more like than I care to admit.

I desperately want to be close to my children. For life. And I realize that closeness must come naturally. I can’t force it. I also know that at times, they will want nothing to do with me. And I know it will kill me.

Why do I expect a certain relationship with my children? I fully understand they are their own people, with their own ideas. So why do I feel this need for things to be the way I expect them to be?

I see my daughter giggle at me and run away when I try for the 10th time today to wrestle her diaper on. And I see her 13 years from now, yelling and running away.

Oh, I hope it’s still a giggle.


  1. Heeheehee – Cordelia is the same way – never stops talking, knows she’s cute and smart, will laugh at you when you try to discipline her, etc.

    You’re right, they’re going to drive us crazy when they get older. But having been the smart ones, we should hang onto our own memories of how we dealt with our parents. Then maybe we might have an edge over them when it comes to dealing with conflict.

    I think we can only hope to raise them to trust us and come to us with their concerns. And to go to daddy when they need to use that cuteness to get something.

    By the way, how’s her finger doing?

  2. Oh my! When I was a teenager, my Dad used to tell me I was “just like your mother” which if course, pissed me off to no end. We butted heads so badly, and back then, I thought it was the worst thing in the world to be like her. Now I think I am lucky to have inherited her indomitability.

    So, even if you end up screaming at each other for a couple years…someday she’ll be grateful to be like you. :?)

  3. Girl, your words describe. I’m barely at the beginning stages of adopting from Ethiopia, and I already know that one day whoever this kid is will hate me. Then I get visions of calling my mother a bitch. Yikes. I’m not losing sleep over it, but I imagine that transition to be a rough ride.

    The silver lining is that while I still don’t really speak the same language as my mother, I’ve stopped calling her a bitch and we get along fabulously as adults.

    Synopsis: enjoy the babies, survive the teens.

  4. Oh, I have the same fears! I am so afraid that my daughter and I will not get along in her teen years, and the thought just kills me!

    Oh, but your girl is a doll, though!

  5. Oy! Erin! I just cried a little! I remember when I was 17 I was so mean to my mom when she’d try to talk to me about things. I thought I knew EVERYTHING. When I got married, she said to me, “I hope you have a daughter who is just like you! Then you’ll see what you put me through.”

    Now I’m telling you, I’m so much like my mom it’s not even funny. People who know her will see me and call me Monica. I just cringe.

    Reading your post made me realize that “What goes around, comes around” is SOOO true!

    🙂 Great Entry, yo!

  6. I had THE SAME realization about my daughter today in the car. I mean, I’ve realized it before, but today I accutely realized it. Here’s how.

    She’d been sleeping. We got home. Her dad came out to greet us. He opened up the car door. I unbuckled her car seat and said, “Bunny, why don’t you tell Daddy who you were just playing with.” She looked at me as though she couldn’t be bothered and said, “Oh Mommy, I don’t know.”

    That is exactly what I would say to my mother if I had just woken up and didn’t feel like answering HER questions.


    And she looks like me too. Crap.

  7. And that’s why I’m adopting another boy. Not that they won’t hate me too, but it will be in a less catty way. =)

  8. I feel your pain. Claudia is my payback for sure.

    Just the other day her father said “She’s the sweetest thing in the world as long as everything is going exactly her way. I don’t know anybody else like that”.

    And then he rolled his eyes a lot.


  9. Hee hee hee – that is funny. I can only hope Sweet Pea will be like me – I wasn’t much of a pain in the bootie like my sisters were. But I also want her to be stronger than I was, and I think she already is, so we’ll see what happens…

    My oldest sister got the “I hope you have a child just like you” comment from Mom a lot growing up, and she did get a daughter just like her – and oh, is she sorry! Not to Mom, just for herself. ha ha!

  10. Her hand is great! The finger healed really well, but she’s going to have a scar. I suppose it could have been much worse.

  11. Yes it is awful when they don’t need you anymore and just think you’re OOld and so ergo totally dumb. But the lovely part is they come around again especially so when they become mothers themselves-as I’m sure you now realise.

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