we are our parents

very slowly, over the past few years, i have begun to hear things come out of my mouth that startle me. at first it was rare.

"take off your shoes at the door."

"please do not walk around while you are eating."

it rang a bell to when i was young. it was my mother's bell. her house was spic-and-span to the point of covering all furniture with sheets and blankets. why? because the dog - a fat, ornery dachshund named trixie - might decide to jump her fat ass up on something to sleep for a spell. and while dog hair just would not do, it was fine to substitute old brown sheets on the spotless louis shanks furniture. to me, personally, i would have gone for the almost invisible dog hair.

so then -- flash-forward years later to me married -- we had these neighbors. they crawled up from the deep bowels of hell to live next door to us. they played music loud. they drove through our yard. they destroyed our curb mailbox more than once. did i take this sitting down? no, that is not my style.

i had the police non-emergency number on speed dial. i wrote letters of complaint to the homeowners association. and, towards the end, i smashed a flowerpot on their porch after leaving a plastic bag full of their own garbage, which had blown into our yard, hanging on their front doorknob.

would my mother have done these things? no, she would not. she is much more civilized. she would have prayed for a peaceful resolution. me? i don't have that kind of time.

my father, though? yes, i do believe he would have told them to go to hell, and also given them a detailed description of where to shove their broomstick. i am my father's daughter.

my last conversation with that particular neighbor involved many four-letter words, and my husband looking at me in horror as i told him that i hoped and prayed that their house would just blow off the face of the earth, so that i could live in peace.

but i digress. my point is, the things that drive me crazy now are things i used to do. but now i've crossed over. i'm on the other team. here are snippets from a facebook conversation i had this week:

jimmy is cranky and thinks young people drive too fast with their loud music.

kevin: whoa! first sign of getting old!

jaleh: and the way they dress. my goodness.

laura: i'm not cranky, but i agree with you jimmy. these kids today and their loud music!

kreg: i usually can't hear the music over my screaming for them to get off my lawn.

me: it's official. we have all become our parents. i yell and scream at people who drive too fast down our street. i look like a crazy woman. i used to flip ME off. god, it's after 8, i have to go get ready for bed.

jaleh: i scream at people who drive too fast down our street too, and throw things at them if i have something handy. i've also beaten the crap out of the hood of a cab in the city that almost hit my daughter and me. when we lived in the city my husband got out of bed in his underwear, put on his fluevog boots and started jumping up and down because the kid that lived downstairs had his music on so loud our walls were shaking. the look of resignation when he got back into bed and sighed, i am my dad, was priceless....

and then yesterday, another friend on facebook, posts this:

kelby is wondering why that idiot thinks i still want to hear the crappy muffler on his '89 civic when he's two miles down the road?

one thing is certain. we all used to be cool. i can remember.

but it takes a lot of effort to be cool. and energy. and, you know, i think you have to actually get up and go places to be cool. i don't have that kind of motivation. i just want to lean back in my lazy-boy equivalent - the overstuffed chair with the ottoman - and watch my pre-recorded shows. in peace and quiet.

and hey, don't we have a luby's coupon somewhere?