Morphing Into Mom

When I was little, my mom installed white carpet. Her odd flooring choice required us to take off our shoes before entering the house. I always thought it odd. It’s a house. It’s carpet. It’s going to get dirty. But now, after living in a city where streams of urine run from the corners and poop land mines fill the sidewalks, I’ve found removing street shoes are a necessity. Am I turning into my mother?

In Chicago, we didn’t care as much as we do in Paris. With our house located in a neighborhood with grass, the sidewalks seemed cleaner. Dog poop was reserved for the lawns and rarely did we have homeless people peeing outside our door. I did, however, start to have our pooches wear shoes when rain or snow created unwanted mud pools. I guess that was stage one of my transition into behaving like my mom.

The idea of having dogs wear shoes ran its course fairly quickly however. Not only would it take what seemed hours to velcro them on, as we walked through the neighborhood they’d fall off – one at a time. So in Paris, I opt for baby wipes stationed outside our front door. They sit inside a basket some hallway traffic fools mistake for garbage, but it makes life easier for everyone.

For guests, on the other hand, I ask them to remove their shoes – but not at first for new acquaintances. I don’t’ want to scare them off (not at least within the first five minutes). Good friends, sure, I don’t wait to announce house rules and regulations. They already know I’m a freak.

Does this idiosyncratic behavior overflow into other areas of my lifestyle? Not yet, but I see it coming. For starters, do you ever examine your theatre seat before resting your head? Briefly consider how many oily heads rest on that very same patch of red and blue fabric. Do you ever think about where your butt has been before sitting on your couch – where eventually you might lay your face while watching a movie? Don’t get me started. Don’t even get me started.

So with my age apparently comes the realization that my upbringing is catching up with me. My mom asked us to vacuum everyday. She asked that we dust the dressers, the tables and armoire everyday. She presented a neat and orderly home – white carpet and all. I may not vacuum as much, nor dust as much, but I strive to keep the house clean and void of feces. Maybe mom does know best.