On Becoming One's Mother

I have realized that I am becoming my mother. It shouldn't surprise me, as my mother turned into her mother, and grandma turned into great-grandma and so on. It happens so gradually, you don't even know until it's too late.

What gave it away for me was this phrase, "Who's that coughing?" This is something my mother would say. I never realized why it mattered to her. But, alas, now I know. Who is coughing matters--if a child is sick, it means sick days, lost pay, trips to the doctor and pharmacist where you spend more money. Even more than money, it means up-all-night, wet wash cloths on the head, fever spikes, runny noses, stuffy noses, trouble breathing, ear infections, tonsilitis, wondering if you should go to the ER in the middle of the night, wondering why this happens when your husband is away on business, worries that the ailment will be passed to the other children. Most of all it means watching your child be sick. To this day, my mother cannot stand it.

The other night, I sat in the living room, reading, and I heard a little cough come from one of the sleepers down the hall. "Who's that coughing?" I said. I get it now. Thanks, Mom.