For the longest time, V has been saying Mimi is just like me. Not always at the most flattering times. I have refused to accept it.
I did not think Mimi looked like me, and I sure as hell didn’t think her hurricanes were inherited from me.
As she grows, though, I do see the physical resemblance. I didn’t notice it before because, as ever, I was fixated on her nose which is flatter and broader than my sharp one. But her eyes, her wide smile, her hair, yes, are mine.
See, I don’t deny that I have a propensity to lose it and yell. To even throw things across a room in frustration. But these are new traits, that I developed after I got married and had my buttons pushed one time too many.
They shocked me, and would shock anyone who knew me as a child and young woman, because I was known for my calm and controlled personality. Drama queen was never my personality type.
Is it possible that a child is a mirror image not of the mother as a child, but of the mother as adult? Not through observation, because Mimi was a drama queen and stubborn as hell from her infancy. Her super-strong character, a force of nature, as it were, was noticeable too early for it to be nurture. Is she a carbon copy of her mother, not as she was and as she believes her essential personality to be, but as she became?
I recall something my mum always said. A child whose mother is unhappy during her pregnancy will inherit that angst. My mother lived with my father’s parents when she was pregnant with my sister and my sister was a moody, clingy, cranky child. When I came along, my mother had moved to her own home, and although she struggled to manage everything herself, she was at peace. I was by all reports a smiley, easygoing child (which is why I struggle to associate Mimi’s personality with my own).
When I was pregnant with Mimi, I was pretty much depressed. So it seems like the transfer of darkness has come to pass.
Or it could be that Mimi is just me, just as I am now. I really do have my own little minime.