i am becoming my step-mother, slowly [long!]

in the ol' nature vs. nurture debate (which always predictably ends in the tired "it's a combination of both!" answer), one fun thing is to see the ways i've become an adult woman like my step-mom, who was really my full-time mom growing up (and a wonderful one, too -- no fairy tale evilness to be found anywhere, except for perhaps a wicked sense of humor. more on that another day ...)

one of the ways I AM BECOMING HER, i've noticed lately (maybe because i'm over this 30 hump and have crossed over into a mystical I DON'T GIVE A CRAP ANYMORE state of being?) is my uncharacteristic lack of public embarrassment. this was a major issue growing up. my step-mom is a loud, vibrant, semi-obnoxious (in a good way) woman. she should've been born african-american and attended a call-and-response baptist church where people yell back at the preacher with their heart and soul, because this is what my mom does IN GENERAL.

she breaks out in song in the grocery store and dances a shuffle waiting in line at target. she laughs so loud at the movies that people turn to stare at her (and often tears stream down her face she's laughing so hard). when she sees a baby looking at her, she talks and coos to it loudly and sweetly, inevitably making the baby smile and laugh (this could be in an elevator or a cafe or a waiting room ...). if someone hits their kid in public, she makes a BIG SCENE, watch out. she is never afraid of anyone, never afraid to make a scene.

now, when i was a kid, this drove me INSANE. i was an attention-whore, to be sure, in my own self-centered way, i know, but i was all about propriety and manners and not embarrassing oneself in public. i had a bohemian heart, but not soul, and so often i wished for a soccer mom who shopped at l.l. bean instead of garage sales and didn't squat by the side of road to pee or pick wildflowers while clean (brand-new!) cars sped past.

however ... people change. you grow up. (could i be more trite? sorry.) my step-mom is now one of my heroes. little changes started happening in me a few years ago ... i noticed my braying donkey laugh embarrsed certain boyfriends at movie theaters, and instead of caring, i only thought, "eh, i'm LOVING this with my heart. go fuck yourself." and then too, for some time now (years, i think), i've been one of those people who talks obnoxiously to strangers' babies and kids, making silly faces and cooing and so on. (one exBF actually suggested i leave other people's kids alone and i told him that since i was making the babies smile, to basically go fuck himself [sigh.]).

and then yesterday:











yes, i was happy as can be to see MY MAN, my candidate, my HOPE for the future my CHANGE CANDIDATE, barack obama come speak here at my redneck sorority-fraternity-lovin' school on the eve of our state's democratic primary (yes, i AM A SUPER POLITICAL NERD: i was at the polls this morning at 8:30 a.m.: voter #9!).

and the point i'm about to make, connecting mom-story with obama-worship, is that from my woodchip-cluttered position outside the security fray at the obama rally (still surrounded by people, and a few friends), i was THE ONLY ONE CLAPPING AND CHEERING WILDLY. granted, i was with an older couple who are fairly staunch edwards fans, but was everyone else in my 30-ft radius?? no, can't be. so what was wrong with these people?

obama would say something inspiring, or funny, or smart, and the die-hard fans up by the amphitheater's stage would cheer and applaud, but around me it was like a goddamn graveyard. some guy in front of me kept glancing back at me every time i would whoop and yell and clap (well, i WAS the only person doing so nearby, and doing so LOUDLY), but for christ's sake, people, show some love! it's cold outside and we need HOPE and CHANGE and someone full of new ideas in washington, so quit looking at me like that, asshats, and put your hands together!! (i wished desperately that i could do one of those loud whistles with my mouth, index finger and thumb. but i can barely whistle with, uh, my own lips and mouth ...)

i kept thinking of my mom then. and how she wouldn't care if NO ONE was cheering. she would still yell. and clap. and tell him he's got the right ideas. she'd probably say something funny or smart-alecky to the dude i kept embarrassing, maybe get him into it somehow. and maybe she'd work her way down to the stage, and eventually get pulled away for trying to kiss obama's cheek. (or uh, his mouth. she remains to this day, much bolder than me).

but i'm working on it, slowly but surely. it's a nice thing to do, this letting go of insecurities ... some people cringe to think of becoming their mother or father, but i smile and hope with my heart i will.