The Curse of the Mini-Me

I think you really have to be in the right frame of mind to enjoy Mike Myers' Austin Powers character. For some people, that's all the time...for others, it's never. I generally fall in the never category, yet, that said, I've had Mini-Me on the mind this morning. Mini-Me, for the uninitiated is Dr. Evil's midget clone, about whom, upon his creation, Dr. Evil remarks, "Breathtaking...I'll call him Mini-Me."

In my experience, it seems to me that we parents are annoyingly, subconsciously and repeatedly driven to mold our kids into what we personally don't want to be, and yet perhaps because we are so busy picking the speck out their eyes to see the log in our own, our children become those very Mini-Me's in spite of us or maybe because of us.

And like I've said, I'm not a physics kind of girl, but I do know my Newton, as his third law of motion, to me, rather neatly sums up life...for every action there will be an equal and opposite reaction. So truly, according to that principle, the one person Mini-Me will drive most crazy is the person who modeled those annoying behaviors/habits in the first place. So what's a mom to do with that, I ask? I can't help myself in correcting my child's "flaws" and "imperfections"...it's my God-given duty, right?

But this morning, I had a revelation. At 6:00 a.m. I made my way upstairs to wake my Sleeping Beauty; however, she was already awake (sort of) and sitting up in bed. As long as she didn't need my alarm clock impersonation, I decided to dive right into pleasant morning conversation on a favorite topic of ours, her room, so to speak, although room is really a loose term.

So I say encouragingly, "It's 6:05. You need to get up. Oh, you're up. That's good!"

No real response. Just a bleary-eyed stare. But I'm not discouraged. I press on.

"So, about this..." and I make a wide sweeping arm gesture to indicate I'd like to discuss her room, so to speak.

"What about it?" the Royal Kawg (short for K-Dawg) yawns from her regal bed throne, the loyal J-Dog curled up at her feet, still dreaming of squirrels and fresh spring dirt and oblivious to this mother-daughter comedy-drama unfolding around her.

"What about it? How about, 'Where is it?'" I reply with less encouragement. "I can't see your room. I can barely see you."

"You're just jealous!" the Royal Kawg declares with a smirk and flips her hair, covering, I'm sure, a major eye roll.

Okay, that did it for me. I laughed out loud and retreated in defeat. "Jealous, yeah right," I muttered, trudging back down the stairs while deciding on my revenge...the Royal Kawg and her jealousy-inspiring room would be on the blog today for Friday Fun Day. Take that, child of mine!

But the truth hurts, and as I sat reviewing the pictures I'd snapped after she'd hustled off to band, I felt like I'd been smacked upside the head. True, I can't really see her floor. True, she lives out of her laundry baskets, which drives me insane because her multiple fashion options for the day get mixed in with the clean, folded clothes and the dirty stuff on the floor and then when I complain, EVERYTHING (clean, dirty, other) ends up in the dirty laundry pile. True, her closet has stuff spilling out of it (clean laundry, dirty laundry, assorted shoes, musical instruments, treasures from years gone by), making it look like it threw up and then some. True, any horizontal surface is covered with books and papers and lotions and jewelry and picture frames and knick knacks.

And, truth be told, I suddenly realized that if I went and took a photo of my bedroom, it would be a mirror image of my daughter's, just slightly less chaotic because I don't have as much space and hey, I'm 27 years older so give me a little credit here. But at the moment I'm having a meltdown because I can see...I've created Mini-Me! Agggh!!!

And no doubt she's right...I probably am jealous. Because I'm an adult, and I know better...I know that I should put my clean laundry away and not leave it in the laundry basket for easy access and I should haul my dirty laundry down to the laundry room before it overtakes the floor and I should not cover every horizontal surface in my room with books and papers and lotions and jewelry and picture frames and knick knacks and I should organize my closet so that it doesn't look like it threw up...and then some. But I don't always do that 'cause I've got bigger fish to fry most days and who's really going to be in my room anyway, besides my husband, so I'm thinking people should really just mind their own business...which is frequently the same sentiment my daughter shares with me when I suggest her room, so to speak, needs work.

Aggggh! The Curse of Mini-Me has struck our home! No longer can I defend myself with "Because I said so!" or "Do as I say, not as I do!" Curses, foiled again! But mark my words, I'll be baaaaack...

And because fair is fair...

Comments

[Christine]

Laugh out loud funny! I too have created mini-me's and I find it very difficult to teach them good habits when I myself don't follow my directions...I end up feeling like a hypocrite! And then there is the "If I ate or didn't eat the way I tell my kids to...I'd be as thin as them!" Yikes...how do we do it?

[Christine]

Oh, and at least you made your bed before you snapped the picture!