Miss Peach

I consider myself one of the lucky few who adores their parents. I really like hanging out with them. They're hilarious and fun and smart and supportive. Plus, they observe cocktail hour in a nearly Gilmore-esque fashion, and they never hesitate to pour me a glass of champagne. In fact, more often than not, my mom and I will kick a bottle together before dinner. (Before you go thinking we have a real drinking problem, you should know this only happens when I am home in California, which is twice a year at most, and also, we're Irish. We have tolerance, my friends.)

Anyway, my point is that they're great. I'd be happy to turn into them, which is a great thing, because I am definitely slowly turning into my mother.

My mom is a character. She's smart, funny, talented, and the woman has moxie. She's also very pretty and exremely personable. Sometimes people comment on how friendly I can be, and all I can think is, "you should really meet my mother." I have spent my entire life going to her doctors, hairstylists, manicurists, mechanics, chiropractors, what have you, and every time I walk in, they are excited to see me because of my mom. "We just LOVE your mother! Oh, she is the best! How IS she?" It's endearing now, but I don't think I need to tell you how that went over in high school.

The bottom line, though, is that I don't MIND that I'm slowly turning into her. Not too much at least, but the fact that I'm already on the path and only 26 is a little frightening. I'm so far managing to stay away from a few of her more annoying quirks, such as her insistence on pronouncing turqoise as "tur-qwahhss" because "it just sounds so civilized, honey". But I've definitely found myself using her expressions, which is alarming considering they comprise some seriously irritating turns of phrase including (but not limited to) "I'll see you back at the ranch" when parting ways with, say, my roommate at the grocery store. Or proclaiming the start of a meal with a perky "bon appetit!" Blech, I even annoy myself when I do these things, but I can't help it. It's genetic.

So far though, I have not managed to inherit two of her best traits: her ability to cook (seriously-the woman is nothing short of a whiz in the kitchen) and her mean green thumb. She can buy a ten dollar orchid at Trader Joe's and keep it alive for years. My parents live in southern California so, yes, part of it is the climate. But still. She has recently started growing limes and lemons and she is so successful that she just might have to open up a produce stand. She has had the same ficus tree since I was born, which has survived two cross-country moves without a single problem. It's maddening.

I, on the other hand, can't keep plants alive. I recently invested in two orchids and one of them died within a week. I have two hanging plants in my apartment and after two weeks, one of them nearly died. It was all dry and shriveled and browning. I finally just went through and cut our all the dead vines and now it looks like a bad hairstyle from 1984--all poufed and volume-y on one side with no leaves on the other side. I am, as a gardener, a failure.

I've watered, shifted, sunned, and fed them. I think the little guy will pull through but it's still too early to tell. I'm resorting to desperate measures. If I whisper nice things to it, will it bounce back? Should I invest in Miracle-Gro or some such food? Water more? Water less? Or should I just throw in the towel, stop resisting it, and actually BECOME my mother? Because, really, how could your luck NOT pick up when you start referring to umbrellas as "um-ba-RELL-as"?