When I look in the mirror, there is no doubt about where I come from. All my life, until 11 years ago, I wondered who I looked like. I could look at pictures of Nonnie, Mom, Dit, and even some of my cousins when they were about the same age, and see such an incredible resemblance. I was envious. I only had me, and I had no idea who else was included in that package.

Now I'm (ack) 31 years old. I've since found Bio-Mom and her family. I'm someone's mother, and looking more like it every day. I look at my face in the mirror and I see Bio-Mom, Sara Jane, and GrandDad. I look at my, um, shape and see Bio-Mom. That's not a good or bad thing, that's just facts people.

That's not to say that my Mom has had no influence whatsoever, no siree. When I wake up Punkin for school every day, I hear my Mom's voice say "Rise and Shine!" I call Punkin 'Hon' which is something my Mom has called Dit and I forever. I'm sure later when Punkin starts school I'll fight with myself (and lose) and sing "School Days! School Days! Dear old golden rule days! There's reading and writing and 'rith-me-tic!"

Heh, I remember sleeping in on Saturday mornings, and gradually being awoken to the sound of the vacuum cleaner coming ever closer to our bedroom door. (think theme from Jaws) mmrroom, mmrrrrooom in the living room. mmROOOMm, mmrrOOOM, in the hallway. MMRROOM, MMRROOM, MMRROOM, BAM! MMRROOM, BAM! No amount of burrowing under the covers shielded us for when Mom hit the door with the vacuum cleaner a couple of times, then fling that door open and burst in with the still running vacuum cleaner demanding to know if we were going to sleep the day away. Ugh. It was only 8:00am! It was then that I longed for the simple, if too perky "Rise and Shine!" Vacuuming was the last thing on her list, too. If she was vacuuming, she'd already cleaned the rest of the house.

Mom used to be a total clean freak. She'll even admit it now. If there was a jacket laying on the floor, the place was labeled a pigsty. We'd clean our rooms, or sometimes when there was a list, we'd clean the house, and it was never done good enough. (Of course, we left it all to the last 20 minutes before she returned from work to do it, but I really think that's beside the point.)

I remember one summer day when she came home unexpectedly early from work. (I may have told this story before, but I can't find it) Dit and I had turned the livingroom into what can only be referred to as Barbie Haven." We had set up 'scenes' under every available table and chair, no nook or cranny was left untouched. There were Barbie clothes and shoes and accessories EVERYWHERE. Usually Barbie and her friends were restricted to our bedroom, for obvious reasons.

Mom walked in the door and surveyed the scene. Two girls looking pretty nervous (think "BUSTED!") and 95 million (or a little less) pieces of Barbie paraphernalia everywhere she looked. With a really creepy calm in her voice, she told us she would be back in a little while and walked out. The door shut behind her and we never scrambled to clean up after ourselves so quickly in our lives. It's pretty amusing-now.

This morning Hubby got up when the alarm went off and got ready for work. We chatted for a bit about my visit with Bio-Mom last night and then he left. I felt unusually awake, so I got up to get some things done around the house before Punkin woke up. My friend, Heather is coming to visit tonight, and I was compelled do the requisite "clean the house before company comes" thing.

Twenty minutes later, as I was bent on my hands and knees washing the kitchen floor this all came rushing back to me. I heard the washing machine working on the last load of laundry downstairs and time wrapped around and smacked me in my Bio-Mom-shaped butt. Oh, my God. Mirror, mirror on the wall, I've become my mothers after all.

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