a piece of a blog

Stolen from a high school friend's latest myspace blog:

I want to put acid in our sprinkler and have it spray the 355858235932 children who play basketball in front of our house every. single. day - none of which who live in any of the surrounding houses. I want to watch and laugh as they melt into a pile of goo. They have a whole neighborhood - why right in front of our house? They leave trash. I hate trash. I want to get the broom and shoo them off. I'm my mother.

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This is hilarious to me, because the older I get (and my friends get) we realize, we ARE our mothers! My grandma used to have a "bad leg" that hurt at night. Now my mom and my aunt have them. And my aunt has resorted to my grandma's cure all of applying rubbing alcohol. Ha, I love it. We are our mothers.

My youngest child grabbed my dad's hand and put it on her leg while she sat watching tv with him Friday night. She is my mother's mother. My grandma used to drive us crazy, laying her hand on our leg, at church, or in the car. Now I'd give anything to have her hot hand sweating up my leg.

I do things like my mom, too. Just like you do.

Today is mother's day, and the more of the Mom's days I experience, the more I see, I am my mom. And that, is a very good thing.