We share a lot of similarities—we're short, we write, we aren't afraid to speak in front of a crowd—but it wasn't until today that I actually morphed into my mother.
It happened this evening. I'd say around 10ish.
I walked into the loft area where Mark was watching Lion Server training videos on the Mac Mini TV. He was all spread out—books over here, cords over there, a MacBook Pro on his lap and another on the ottoman.
I walked in from my office and said, I wanna move the couch over here and the chair over there. You mind getting up for a sec so I can do it right now?
He looked at me dazed and got out of the way.
I heaved the couch and shoved the chair and slid the ottoman and jerked the room divider across the carpet. I placed the couch and stepped back. And then I knocked it with my knee to slide it to the left a few inches. I stepped back, slid it again, stepped back, and did like that over and over while Mark held his computers and watched his little wife rearrange a room.
He watched while I went into our bedroom to steal a foyer table.
And he heard me when I said, Well, now I've done it. I've become my mom.
How's that? he asked.
I just put my first dent in the wall while sporadically moving furniture without male assistance. And I wasn't freaking out about it.
The transition was quick and it didn't feel weird at all.
And without warning I feel quite able to refinish tables, cook for 20, and grow my own food. (Able but unwilling. Let's be quite clear on that.)