We were sitting at the table tonight and the kids were picking their jobs for next week. After the last stick was pulled and the last job written on the job chart, I looked up and noticed that two bowls were still on the table, left there from tonight’s dinner.
“Kendra and Anthony,” I said, “take your bowls and put them in the sink.”
Only, it wasn’t my voice that came out.
It was my mom’s.
Not in an oh, that sounds just like something she’d say sort of way, but in a “Holy CRAP, is my mom using me as some sort of ventriloquist’s dummy?” kind of thing. I almost clapped both hands over my mouth, and I did turn around to see if she was behind me, saying the exact same words at the exact same time.
It was me.
Don’t get me wrong– I love my mom. I adore her. We are the best of friends. It’s just that sometimes I feel like a teenager with cool nieces and nephews, rather than a mother. Or like I’m babysitting for a really extended period of time. You know, because I’m Kemi, and I’m a mom, sure, but my mom? SHE’S the mom. Apparently, time marches on and I am stepping into her role not only physically, but now vocally as well.
I am freaking out.