Becoming Your Mother

Growing up I remember always worrying I’d become my mother. I’m sure there are statistics out there pointing out an insanely high chance you have of becoming your mother, but I always thought people chose to follow in the same foot steps as their mothers or else didn’t try hard enough to not be exactly like them.

Growing up I remember people fearing my mom. She had a reputation for being a lady you didn’t want to cross. Some people would tenderly refer to her as a mamma bear – others would go as far as calling her the b-word. Regardless, that’s not how I planned to be.

At 30.5 I’ve realized how much I am just like my mother. When we’re wheeling and dealing my KISA will make me be the bad cop because, as he says, I’m so much better at it. I also notice I picked up on little habits that my mom had, like my inability to leave the house when it’s dirty or to have clutter of any kind.

As an adult, and looking bad on things, I don’t know why I ever thought becoming my mother would be such a bad thing. Yes, maybe I worry too much like my mother and butt in on things I shouldn’t, but I always have the best of intentions. And, you can bet no person had ever dare cross my children or else you’ll see what kind of b-word I can be. I think I’m starting to embrace this whole becoming my mother concept.

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About FarmGirlHipster

“Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air…” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Posted on January 24, 2014, in Life in 'Frisco. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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