Resistance is Futile

It's over. I might as well hang up my gloves and call it quits. There is no hope. I am turning into my mother!

When I was growing up, my mom put great importance on tone of voice. It not only mattered what you said, but how you said it. You could say "I love you", "I'm sorry", "Please", or any number of phrases, but they would mean very little or have the opposite affect if you didn't say it with the right tone. I remember it driving me absolutely bonkers when my mom would say "Your tone of voice says otherwise." It was like fingernails on a chalkboard, making my impatient teenage self very frustrated.

Obviously I am teaching my kids to say things with the right tone. You can't say "I'm sorry" in an angry voice or "Please" in a winy voice. Common sense that kids lack and need to be taught. But this importance of tone has also passed over to my husband, the poor innocent fellow. How can he mean he is excited about something I told him unless his voice shows it? If there is just a little edge in his voice, intended or not, I notice. "Why are you so cranky?" to which he responds, "I'm not!", becoming annoyed like teenage Sue often did at my mom. How can he say in a monotone voice that I look great after I took extra special effort to look good for a date? Where's the inflection?

Yeah, he's doomed. After growing up with tone of voice being key, I have become an expert at picking it up. And even though it drove me crazy as a teenager and I swore I'd never be concerned about it, I am. It's hopeless, completely hopeless. Like many women before me, I have become like my mother in one more way.