Whenever I describe my mother to someone, I get a look. It’s
a look I recognize, although I never acknowledge it. It’s a look that says,
“you realize you just described yourself, right?”
I can understand this, as my mother and I do have a few
similarities. We’re both short. We both frequently have reddish hair. We both
seem insanely nice and are easily amused. However in my humble opinion there is
a huge difference between us.
Remember how I said we both seem insanely nice? Well, my
mother is legit nice and adorable and goodness and sugar and all those things.
Apparently she was the perfect child. I’ve heard this from several reliable
sources (basically all of her siblings, and her mother). She can’t even get mad
properly. Sure, if you’re under the age of three, you might be a little
intimidated when she starts yelling gibberish. When she’s really mad, there may
even be a curse word included here and there. But let’s be honest, for anyone
who’s not a toddler, her random outbursts don’t accomplish anything than making
you want to pat her on the head and go “there, there.”
For the record, while no one believes this initially, me
when I’m truly angry is actually a terrifying thing to behold. Avoid it.
But the main reason I don’t consider myself to be like my
mother isn’t because she fails at being angry, but the larger problem: her
goody-two-shoes-ness.
My mother is the ultimate goody two-shoes. So much so, that
in our family she is routinely referred to as Miss Two-Shoes. The goody isn’t
even implied, it’s just known.
I swear too I’m not saying this because the rest of the
people in my family are deviants that like to torture each other, and in
comparison my mother comes off like a saint. My mother legitimately seems
compelled to follow the rules that everyone else feels free to ignore, whether
they be actual laws or mere social conventions.
For instance:
- She is the only person I know who actually comes to a full stop at the guard shack when leaving the gated community where my parents live. The guards barely give a f*** who’s coming into the community, let alone who leaves. She also insisted throughout our childhood on telling them every time a visitor was coming. To be clear on how unnecessary this was, if you smile and wave, or just say you’re going to the pool or ski lodge, they let you through.
- She is the first to volunteer for her church, her community, or any random cause that comes hither. Sometimes to switch it up she donates. Or does both, and then also “recruit” her kids into it. Every time I call her she’s either canning soup, making candy, or setting up for a fundraising event. If other people aren’t hitting the quotas on candy production, she complains once, feels bad about it, and then makes more.
- She feels compelled to follow all directions. This includes assembly directions in a box, directions when traveling, as well as signs saying “stay off the grass.” If she is with someone who ignores these directions (like my father) she has a special face of disdain and superiority, indicating that this will end in misery and it will not be her fault since she wanted to follow them (you’d know the face if you saw it).
Whereas I have never considered myself a goody two-shoe
because my moral code is all over the place. I don’t want to give examples
because that would provide concrete evidence against me, but trust me, there’s
some deviousness sitting pretty in my corner.
So you can imagine my surprise when a few weeks ago, I
realized that I too might be a goody two-shoes. This was mainly due to
NaNoWriMo. If you don’t remember this from previous years, it stands for
National Novel Writing Month. I am yet again attempting a novel (which is why
there won’t be a surplus of posts from me for awhile). I had a whole month of
debate though on whether or not to do it, because the thing is that I have like
5 days where I won’t be able to write because I’m visiting my family. This
gives me a condensed writing schedule. While it’s doable, because my friend Erin did it last year, I had doubts.
I was discussing it with my mother, my perfect, goody
two-shoes mother, and she suggested I CHEAT by starting A WEEK EARLY. I
spazzed. Was I turning into more of a goody two-shoes? Was she now the devious
one? What was happening?
After giving it much consideration, I have decided I am NOT
a goody two-shoes. You’re relieved, I know. There are a few random rules I
follow and stick to, but it’s not consistent, and it probably goes more along
with my general insanity and slight OCD tendencies and whatnot. It doesn’t
really come from a desire to “do good.”
However, I also have to say that if I was becoming more like my mother, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. We need those goody two-shoes people to make up for those of us that are running amuck and causing havoc.
