**I must preface this post by saying that of all the people I could become, becoming my mother is one of the world's loveliest options.
I don't know how it happens but men and women agree that at some point in their lives, they wake up and have suddenly become their mother or father. No one's ever ready for it and despite their internal promises of never saying or doing the thing their parents were known for, they go and do it anyway.
Which brings me to cups. There was a time in my adolescence that it seemed my mother was quite frustrated by our cup usage. Me, my sister, my dad. We used too many cups. I never understood it--I know the 3 of us didn't use excessive amounts of cups intentionally. We just grabbed a new cup when we needed a drink and sat the other in the sink. I seem to recall on more than one occasion hearing my mom say under her breath "I swear if I have to wash one more cup today..." (You other moms have been there I'm sure.)
Fast forward 10 years or so to my first year of marriage. There are so many things to get used to when you're first married, each other's little habits and hang-ups. Well lo and behold my husband was one of those excessive cup users. I started noticing after he left for work I'd be cleaning up the kitchen before work and we were racking up cups in the dishwasher so quick we were out by the middle of the week! I silently grew frustrated over a couple weeks until he came home one day, grabbed a cup from the cabinet and I lost it. "Why do you use so many cups?" I asked accusingly. "What are you talking about?" he asked (clearly his mom never impressed upon him the importance of cup conservation). "Cups! Cups, cups, cups! Would it kill you to use the same cup all day? I swear if we go through any more cups..."
Mom? Was that you?
I know it wasn't me. I never understood the cup thing--that was silly, extreme even. I guess it was only silly until they were my cups.