Whenever I Open My Mouth...

...my mother comes out.  This is a little saying that is going around Facebook in various meme forms these days.  I have to tell you, I can't relate.  I was blessed with a mom who apparently never said anything memorable in the obnoxious category.  

It's inevitable when you become a parent to ponder the parenting you received (and, let's face it, are still receiving).  My memory may be skewed by rose-colored hindsight glasses, but I have no memory of my mom yelling.  She never lost her temper.  She was always willing to chat with me until her eyes couldn't stay open any longer.  She spent lots of quality time with me.  She was a great mom.  I pale in comparison to her.  

I yell.  My temper is always just under the surface, ready to blow.  Some days I can't wait for the kids' bedtime so I can have a little peace and quiet.  I hide from them in my room.  I take care of the basics, and I hug and kiss them and tell them how amazing they are and how much I love them.  Hopefully these will be the things they remember when they have kids and ponder their own upbringing.  This may be wishful thinking on my part.  

My kids will definitely be able to relate to the "whenever I open my mouth" quote.  I give them a lot of good material.  Gems like, "If you do that, you'll kill yourself and be dead," or, "Don't answer the door.  There's crazy people out there," or "I didn't give birth to pigs, so stop trying to live like them," or one of my favorite go-to's, "If you don't shut your faces, I'll sit on you."  It's not uncommon for me to ask myself, "What the heck does that mean?" or to admonish myself for introducing even more confusion into my children's already mixed-up, chaotic world.  

Already I hear them using my mom-isms on each other.  Wendy, as the oldest, is the biggest offender.  Titus, as the youngest, makes me laugh.  Everything of mine that he repeats sounds so cute in his little squeaky voice.  I only hope that the things I say that they are absorbing won't do too much permanent damage.

So, maybe whenever I open my mouth, my mom doesn't come out.  Of course, this just applies to the things I say.  Whenever I open my mouth to laugh, my mom shoots forth from my innards.  When we get going, we both have the same laugh that the elder Mr. Dawes has at the end of Mary Poppins.  You know, the breathy one that killed him?  Only, the laugh hasn't killed us yet.  It does make me pee my pants, though.  

I'm glad to have this in common with my mom.