I realized last night as I was lying in bed, that I’ve never, in all my life, heard anyone say to me, “You’re sure your mother’s daughter!” I don’t know why that struck me as surprising, or why I even noticed that it was a particular lack in my life so far, but I did take note of it and even told my husband Jeff as he crawled into bed. He thought it was hilarious. Of course he did. Of course he thought it was hilarious because he loves to joke about it. One Fall he managed to drive over his own foot with his jeep. It sounds tricky, huh? The Jeep was rolling down the driveway and he attempted to jump in it to stop it, but the short wheel base meant that while his right foot was stepping into the quickly accelerating Jeep, his left foot was still on the ground and his back left tire rolled up his Achilles. He pulled his foot out just in time, to avoid having the vehicle drive all the way up the back of his leg and possibly farther, but not in time to avoid the fracturing of his metatarsal. Crutches followed and he drove his stick shift using a cane to push in the clutch. I just shook my head.
Visiting my parents’ church shortly thereafter, we sat together, Jeff gingerly setting his foot out in front of him and leaning back in his seat. I put my arm around him and scratched his back absent-mindedly. “Nice to have the tender love of a woman to take care of you while you’re down, eh?” The man behind us smiled knowingly at us and patted Jeff on the shoulder. Jeff didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, Kari’s mom sure is great.” I just shook my head. The mean behind tossed his head back and howled.
I have, of course, heard, plenty of times, “You’re your father’s daughter!” Mostly from my mother. She usually makes this remark after one of four things: a discussion between my dad and me about finances and investments, a humorously unsympathetic comment from me directed at someone (either present or absent) who is in some manner of physical discomfort, an expressed desire to vacation anywhere with perpetually hot weather, or an exclamation that whoever thought of the idea of domesticating animals and allowing them in homes should have been burned at the stake.
This all sounds rather harsh. I’m exaggerating, of course.