I am, that's who.
I know, I know, people would say who else would we be but our mother's/father's daughter/son. But then again, sometimes, things happen that a person lives up his/her adult life handling things the complete opposite of his/her parents' way. Whether consciously or not, we, at some point, swear we'd never deal with things the way our parents did... I'm rambling, ain't I?
Growing up, I was pretty close to my mom. I still am, but no longer in the same way when I was a child. Which is expected, I suppose. As I got older, I've always thought that my mom and I have opposite sensibilities. I think I'm more like my dad in terms of attitude and personality.
But every now and then, my mom's personality in me asserts itself in tiny ways that makes me realize, eeek, I am my mom! HAH!
My mom loves tiny tools/gadgets. As I do, apparently. Thingamajigs that I can do without, really, but get it anyway because they're cute, and on the odd chance that I may need them even once, then I'll know I have it. (Mind you, that tiny egg flipper is proving very handful hehe). She has tons of these stuff. And it seems I'm getting there. Yikes!
Living at home, I remember my mom always having a stash. Of what? You name it, she has it. One time, I remembered friends hanging out and I was asking them if they wanted anything. One of them jokingly mentioned some random food. And true to my mom's style, I found it, in the cupboard. Joke was on him, for sure!
Fast forward XX years, and here, occupying part of our dining table, is a basket with various goodies, for the times I just feel like munching.
(Mom, did you fly out here and sneaked into our place, without us knowing?)
I can keep going, scarily enough...
The funny part is I didn't even realize it until a family friend brought it up. What rock have I been hiding underneath, you ask? Uhm, denial rock?
How do I feel about all this? Not sure. Other than acknowledging it, I don't think I feel anything else. It is what it is. I am my mother's daughter after all, no?