You know the old saying that you end up marrying your father and becoming your mother? And how you fight this tooth and nail, determined not to turn into them, even if they raise you well and you turned out alright? (Sorry Mom & Gary - it's for the sake of my writing!)
While I can only do so much to not turn into my mother - I'm a graphic designer, she's a lawyer, but we're the same height, etc - I thought I was doing pretty well when I married a Mexican guy. My dad's not American either - he's Dutch - but he's a big burly guy with an anchor tattoo and a business degree. And he's a boat captain.
My husband is barely five and a half feet tall (although, if you ask him, he's pushing six feet) and has what I call a soccer-player's physique. He's a carpenter and electrician, and has no tattoos.
Pretty different right?
Well, I was just folding the laundry and thinking about the new position he starts Friday when it hit me: his new job is el capitan de maseros. Waiters' captain.
Captain!
What? How did I not see this coming?
I know the two are hardly the same. Beyond the title, they couldn't be more different. Nonetheless, if anyone asks me what jobs the men in my life hold I can cover both with the same word.
I may as well break out the law books - I've become my parents.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
7 comments:
Oh no. There's no turning back, you know...
Oh, it's a slippery slope. Wait until you have kids and you hear your mother's voice coming out of your mouth and it's too late to stop the phrase(s). :)
*chuckles* It happens to all of us at some stage. We start off totally infatuated with our parents, then become disenchanted, later we hate them, then we come to realise how much we've always love them. Alas, eventually we're doomed to emulate them. That is the way of all decent role models.
It's best to just give in. By your hubby a captains hat and enjoy the uniform. ;-)
Dang, how did I get so behind on your blog? Anywhoo, Captain Ibis, huh? Well as long as he doesn't start wearing a parrot on your shoulder and insist on calling you salty wench, it could be fun. And in case your blog opts to not add my identity again, I'll take full credit for this entry.
jesxxx
I'm with wordsmith -- and then there's the fun of watching your children turn into you!
There's nothing quite like watching your three-year-old roll her eyes at the baby and say "Please will you stop that screaming?" in a voice that is identically yours. :)
My mother's voice already flies out of my mouth at times, and not when I expect it. Random times, like talking about a cute shirt I saw or what I had for dinner last night. Mom's voice, my lips.
Elrena is so right...and it happens early. The manerisms too, not just the words and phrases. When my son was around 18 months, I learned that I'm a finger wagger. When I'd stopped him from grabbing the night light one day while saying "what does Mama say?", he turned, but one hand on his hip and with the other wagged his finger and said "uh, uh, uhhhh."
Post a Comment