Things I can blame my mother for...

My mother is the one who initially taught me to knit; unfortunately, it didn't really stick the first time though. My fault, not hers. That being said, there was the work before play gig. My husband has been out of town for almost a week, and at the beginning of the week I thought I would knit the entire time. Ask me if that is what I did, go ahead, I double dog dare you? Ask me if all I did was knit, and nothing else. The answer is an emphatic NO! I did all the crappy little chores that would not get done if I didn't do them, and that only mattered to me because a nasty little voice in my head kept saying, "Come on, work before play. You can knit later." Let me explain, I think there is some kind of a spell that mothers cast on their children. Once you are fully an adult, all or most of the things your mother taught you, the fun and the not-so-fun eerily begin appearing like magic in your life. In your 20s, who cared if your place was clean? Dirty dishes, get to them later. Dirty clothes, buy new. Don't want to iron, not a problem, there is a dry cleaner on every corner. Then your 30s come, still in your own groove. Then you hit 35 and all the fun stuff that used to be just fine with you now starts to bring up nagging little thoughts like I can't stand this mess; just look at this closet; and who left that (whatever that is) there?!?!?!

Your 30s keep rolling, and before you know it the bloom is off the rose, and you are closing in on 40, and that damn spell is working like a charm. No longer can you spend hours, days, weeks ignoring chores. The lists I used to hate when my mother made them for me are now in my own damn handwriting! The fun that used to come first is so far down the list it didn't even make the list, and the spell keeps working...

Better yet, I am now repulsed by some of the things that I used to be drawn to. I now hate things that are gaudy, flashy, and for the love of God fuschia! The spell has worked so well that it makes me loathe the tacky and gaudy so much that I now fear its return, and the aforementioned dear mother now suggests I get more color in my wardrobe lest I be seen in too much brown, black, and beige. I used to be the one with purple eyeliner, navy mascara, and blue fingernail polish - a thought/memory I now regard with genuine horror. You guessed it, the spell.

The husband will be home in four hours, and I got so much done while he was out of town; however, not much knitting though. (Damn, damn, damn!!!) I look around, and I am glad I did all that work, and I guess I have to say, "Thanks Mom, I couldn't have done it without your help/spell." Maybe I am an adult now, maybe not, but at least I didn't get the spell that my younger sister did. She got THE bad spell - the "I hope when you grow up you have a child that acts just like you do" spell. I had to grow up with that kid, and God bless that spell...

Long story short, whatever responsibility I occasionally exhibit is owing to Mom. However, I will still find a way to use the "F-word" now and again. KIDDING, because I am sure there is a spell for that too...