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I am my mother. It has happened. I have become the one person I have challenged my whole life. I have become the one person that I could never for the life of me get along with for more than 2 hours. I have become that crazy, intelligent, adorable, multi bag carrying, woman, that swears by home remedies and Vicks vapor rub. I don't know why or how this happened to me and not my sister, I mean she still lives at home with the lady! All I know is that the transformation has occurred, and I don't know how to reverse its effects, like the constant blaming of being late on my husband, and the nobody loves me pity party. On the positive side I do get invited to many social gatherings. The downside? My arms hurt from packing my house every day to work and people always crowd at my cubicle to ask for advice from hairstyles to farming.

Growing up I was always told I looked like my father, but was completely insane like my mother. I spoke like her, I told stories like her, and behaved like a 2 year old like her. Naturally being my mother's daughter would present a life long of verbal matches and silent treatment stand offs. Whenever mom said no I would bat my lashes at dad and wrap my arms around his leg and he would say yes. Thus began the eternal frenemy relationship of my mother and I.

My father tells me I am the only one of all 3 children that questions my mother to this day. My brother just smiles and listens to her rants and raves, because they are in love, and my sister walks away because she is too busy or pretends to take a call. Me on the other hand, stay put and we circle each other like two raging bulls about to go at it. I don't know why she drives me insane and part of me wants to put duct tape over her mouth, and part of me wants to hug and kiss her. It's the strangest relationship. My siblings say its because we are exactly alike, both fighting for control of the spotlight. I am more that happy to give her the spotlight, I just think maybe her stories and comedy act are stale and everyone would rather hear me speak.

For some strange reason my mother seems to know everything. She knows the correct way to bathe dogs, although she's never had any, and she knows how to instruct me on driving even though she has never owned a vehicle or have a license. She reminds me that she is my mother an I am supposed to tell her everything, because she is my best friend. Okay sometimes I buy into that, but do best friends make you want to pull out your hair every second

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