It took about 22 years, nine months and 34 seconds through a Burger King drive-thru for me to turn into my mother. You see, she has this thing with the fountain Diet Coke from Burger King. They apparently have just the right combination of syrup to carbonation. It took me 22 years to taste the difference, and boy was it sweet. That’s the thing about mom’s though, they’re pretty much always right.
For my entire life, people have been telling me I’m just like my mother. When I was little I would roll my eyes. It’s very frustrating for family members to pinch your cheeks, smile and tell you, “You’re just like your mom!” My mom is a feisty mamma bear, and I was a bratty kid. I didn’t really see it. Now, when people tell me I’m just like my mom, I can’t help but feel proud. My mom is the strongest person I know. She literally will not take shit from anybody. I remember the first time I brought Stephen home to meet her, he had heard stories, of course, and he was nervous. Basically, my mom is the nicest person in the entire world, until she doesn’t really like you. And then you should be worried. Everything went fine, my mom loves him. I asked him later about it, and he told me he was more intimidated by meeting my mom than meeting my dad. Usually, I think, it’s the opposite.
So yeah, when people tell me I’m just like my mom they’re telling me that I won’t back down. I love that about her. They’re also telling me how much fun I am. When I go home for the weekend, my mom and I usually go out on Friday night together. Or we stay in and catch up on the million shows she has DVR’d (I’m especially fond of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills). We spend Saturday shopping, browsing Super Target, eating junk food and talking about how it’s okay to cheat on our diet because it’s only like 500 calories.
She called me today to gossip about some stuff, talk about my first “day off” for the summer and we ended up talking for 45 minutes. I honestly can’t remember the last time I went a day without at least texting my mom. Even Stephen has noticed. “You talk to your mom ALL the time,” he teases me. You know what, of course I do. She’s my mom. She’s the coolest person I know. She owns more Free People clothes than the warehouse. She’s the smartest person I know, she proofreads things for me. She’s almost too nice, but she’s not a doormat. I don’t know about you but that’s somebody I’d like to be best friends with.
So I guess it’s pretty cool that I am.
[Lead image via vlavetal/Shutterstock]