I Think Thoughts

I am my Mother

I am my mother.  It happened today in the car with PC on the way to work (don't get me wrong, it's happened many times before, but today felt rather poignant.)  Let me preface by saying I have road rage.  I've tried to reign it in in an effort to maybe be a better person (baby steps), and also because that PSA with the mom exhibiting road rage in front of baby where the moral is that bad behavior is contagious, blah blah blah, well, that really resonated with me and I don't want to teach my kids to be assholes.  Let them be born that way, but I'd rather they not pick it up from me (nature vs. nurture and all that.) 

So anyway, some douchebag in a mercedes wasn't moving swiftly enough, so PC gave a little, reasonable honk.  Mercedes starts moving, but then at the next light, slows enough so that PC gets caught at the light and douchebag makes it through, giving us the finger in his rearview.  I saw the stiffening of the jaw, the clenching of the fists.  Playfully, I say "whatever honey, he's the asshole, who cares."  Well, that's when the stalking began and we followed Mercedes for the next 15 blocks (somewhat out of our way, mind you,) so that PC could teach some idiot a lesson with a glare, shaking of the head, waving of the fist and some good old fashion intimidation. 

On block 3 of the pursuit, it just happened.  My mother took over a la Patrick Swayze and Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost.  I didn't even process the words before I spoke them. 

"What if he has a gun?!"

It was a minor fit of hysteria cloaked in rational thinking.  But there it was.  My mother's words spilling out of my mouth and I believed them.  I thought it was a compelling argument - you can't always identify crazy - and I silently praised my mom for the knowing little gems and cautionary tales she's bestowed on me throughout my life.  Big shout out to the invention of email, so that I can now receive her warnings via urban legend forwards (please tell me you can smell the sarcasm on that one.) 

**I won't pretend that I would not have exhibited similar behavior had I been alone in the car with no one there to witness my outburst. 

Awesome Fetus

Someone/thing allowed my brother to procreate.  I don't have a baby picture to share, but take Spock, dial it back 70 years to his infancy, and that was my brother post-womb.  His wife has seen the pictures (I usually present those early on in the courtship) and was brave enough to move ahead with some good ole fashioned family planning.  I'm so proud relieved.  At least this takes the pressure off me for awhile, but I can't wait to be an aunt.  I can't wait to take his kid for a test-drive before screwing up my own.  I'm sure there's a Freudian explanation for my desire to torture my brother's kid the way my brother tortured me growing up.  Or maybe I'm just eeeevil. 

Anyway, proof that Spock's spawn is forthcoming: