Unfortunately, we all become our mothers. As we are growing up, we tell ourselves and of course, anyone who is listening I will "never" be like my mom. I have come to realize it is not a bad thing to be my mother, or I say that because sometimes when I say, do or gesture, I can see my mother doing the exact same thing in the same way.

In my mind I will always be between the age of 30-35, and not "43", which in reality I am at in my life. Last week, when my mom stopped over, first thing out of her mouth was "hi" it was I need a glass of wine, with a hand geature as if I should of already had it poured for her. I have on numerous occassions done the same thing when driving the 90 minutes or longer to see my family. Even when my husband and I are arguing, I will make a comment and his look says it all, "You are so your mothers daughter". My sisters and I like to pretend none of us have gotten traits from our mother, but we all have. Lynne ( oldest) has gotten's mom inate ability to have company and actually sit, relax and enjoy the company,nope instead she is in the kitchen, cleaning, or cooking to make it perfect but does not actually enjoy her company.

Gwynne (2nd oldest) has gotten my mother's ability to over react to situations, and example of this would be: One time I was at her house, and her husband (ex now), was outside and she didn't know where he was, she was running through the house freaking out that he might of gotten kidnapped or something. You are in Mystic CT, and he is at least 35 years old, he is probably ignoring the screaming woman out the door. Which is what he was doing.

Now, both my sisters have daughters, it will be quite interesting to see when they become their own mothers, which at this point they both swear is not going to happen to them.

Here is a column from the New London Day on the subject:

February 7, 2008. A date which will live in infamy. For it was on this very day, at approximately 6:35 p.m., that I went to the bottom of the stairs in my home, pointed my face upwards and hollered,

“TURN THAT MUSIC DOWN!”

February 7, 2008.

A Thursday.

6:35 p.m.

I became my mother.

Of course, it was inevitable. No matter how much in my heart of hearts that I believe I am still 27, I'm not. I'm teetering on the cusp of 45. And as with much of life, it's been slowly creeping in. The second after the second you have a kid is when the specter of your mother sticks its toe in the door of your persona. I've been replying “Because I said so” to their questions for years. That was one of my mother's Top 10. “Don't make me say it again” popped up around the time they started getting homework.

Those, of course, are mild. They are merely tools we store in the Effective Parenting Shed. Uttering them doesn't at all imply that you are over the hill or middle-aged or completely unhip to the kids of today. It simply means you are out of patience at the moment and want something important - like teethbrushing or silent reading or bed-making - done in a timely and responsible manner.

But “Turn down that music!” That's the beginning of the end.

I was trying to get something done on the computer downstairs. But all I could hear was Miley Cyrus (or perhaps it was Hannah Montana, I'm not sure) warbling about the importance of all of us being ourselves and not letting life get us down and woo-hoo while we're at it have a party:

So anywhere we are

Anywhere we go

Everybody kno-ows

We got the party with us

Anywhere we are

Anywhere we go

Everybody kno-ows

We got the party with us

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh ohh ohh

Now, I'm all in favor of girl power and nice role models and I actually like both the “Hannah Montana” show and Miley Cyrus. It's a cute sitcom with good messages, and Cyrus does not expose her belly button to the world. I have no quibble with my daughter loving her or her music.

I am, after all, the one who bought her the little boom box last year for her ninth birthday, and I am the one who buys her the CDs. I love that she loves music. I fondly remember all those nights, in my bedroom, blasting the Bay City Rollers, and Bread and Air Supply and Journey and Donna Summer.

I also remember my mom hollering up the stairs to turn it down. Many, many times. For many, many years.

I guess they call that full circle. Or payback.

This is the opinion of Elissa Bass.