Just as Fox's "World's Meanest Animals" appears on your TV, the remote is nowhere to be found. The very last seat in class is the one next to the kid who smells like he's been at a bar all morning.

And one day, whether we're prepared for it or not, we become our parents.

What we don't realize, though, is that this isn't necessarily a bad thing.

The realization is seldom happy and always sudden. It hits us when we least expect it — when we laugh at a Democrat joke or say "slacks" when we mean pants. It rocks our world and, guaranteed, it freaks us out.

And it often comes in the nicest of compliments that we take to be the cruelest insults.

I used to hate it when the old ladies from church would come up to me and tell me I must be Patricia's daughter. "It's your eyes … your smile … your sick sense of humor." (I'm told for that, my grandfather would be proud).

Now I see it almost every day. I recognize my mother in every sarcastic joke I dish out. I realize it whenever I spot a new white streak highlighting my hair.

I remember as a little girl thinking that when my parents turned 50 they might as well be turning 100. At a time when I figured I'd be married with children at 22, 50 seemed ancient and further away than I could possibly imagine.

Today, as my mother hits the much talked-about age, I realize that 50 is just as important to me as it is to my parents.

Like many of my senior classmates, now is the most confusing time of my life. What will I do? Where will I live? Which bill will I dodge first?

More than any other time in my life, I now need my parents. Without their help or guidance I might not know how to start paying school loans. I might not get the extra push I need to find a good job. Hell, I might end up working back at Indiana's largest Amoco gas station like I did a few summers ago.

Now is a time when I just need an old church lady to tap me on my shoulder and remind me that I'm Pat's girl. Or — and I can't believe I admit it — for me to get in a political debate with my dad and know that I'm that passionate because of him.

It's a time when my parents can be proud of how they have shaped me and my life experiences; when they can see themselves in how I deal with problems, answer the phone or butter my bread.

That 50 means that both my parents have hit the "milestone," and that I need the assurance that yes, I AM becoming them and that I'll turn out okay like they did. It's a time when they can see me becoming — well, them.

So if someone comments that you're beginning to walk, talk or act just like your mother, don't fret.

If an older woman you don't recognize approaches you and says, "Are you 'so-and-so's daughter? You look just like her," don't assume you've aged 30 years.

Turn, smile and say "thank you."

Thank you, Mom, and Happy Birthday.

• Becoming Them