<p>I swore I would be a different mother than my mother; no nagging, no yelling, I wanted to be June Cleaver!! Somehow we don’t always get what we want, and genetics take over and dictate who we are.</p>
<p>My family attended a special event for my son this weekend and I warned my mother to not give my son too much “advice” as I knew he would be overwhelmed will all the family at his home for a weekend. My mother was on her best behavior, but I was the one with all the unwanted advice. At one point I asked my son where he wanted to hang a picture we had framed for him, and he said, “Gee mom, I don’t know; where do YOU want it?” He was not deferring to my decision, but figured whatever he said I might overrule. </p>
<p>I realized while he is living in the house we jointly bought with him, it is his house and my opinions, while welcome or not the final decision. To this day, my mother always seems to get her way and the entire family lets her get away with it. While my mother usually has good ideas, sometimes I want to make a decision for myself but feel I should give in to her. We are not talking life and death decision here; more like what I should serve for holiday dinner, or which paint color is better for the kitchen!</p>
<p>It took this weekend to remind me that my children are grown, and while they might want my opinion I need to give an opinion and nothing more. I need to make sure I don’t push my ideas down their throats.</p>
<p>While I love my mother dearly, I will try harder to not become her in certain ways. There are plenty of good things about my mother, so I will focus on becoming more like her in those areas. Some days I feel like that teenager that doesn’t want to be like her mother and cringes when she speaks. Other days I know she raised me to be an independent person and for that I love her.</p>
<p>Ah Snowball, it happens to the best of us.
My mother is no longer with us but the older I get, the more I see myself becoming like her. I loved and respected her very much. I remember her doing things that sometimes really got on my nerves as a young person. Now I do those same things. </p>
<p>I always thought she worried too much. I am now a champion worrier. I thought she spent too much time planning everything in advance and foreseeing possible problems down the the road. Twenty years ago, I thought that was ridiculous. Now that is me.<br>
Many times I write an email to one of my college age children and it feels like her words are pouring out of me…giving advice on little things that young adults are really not interested in and are fully capable of figuring out for themselves. I have to remind myself to back off frequently. It’s not always easy,lol.
Now that both my S’s are in college, it has hit me that although they are out of my house, they will never be out of my heart. I can’t just stop but I am trying to bite my lip more often. Some parts of mothering cannot be turned off, even the annoying parts. We just do the best we can in our own way, just like our mothers.</p>
<p>My mom died a long time ago…1984…and yet she pops out of my mouth a lot…just the other night I was at a soccer game…we all knew it would be contentious but exciting because both teams are excellent. Another mom, an attorney showed up, after having been on trial the past 3 days. We were talking about an upcoming game and she mentioned that she “hates” the parents of the upcoming school. So I laughed and said “didn’t your mother teach you that Hate is a wasted emotion?” So we all talked about different axioms from our moms etc. About 30 minutes into the game, a dad from the other team started getting more and more upset with the game, with the refs, with our boys play, etc. He started yelling at the refs, with foul language and even threatened to call the cops and charge the visiting team with physical abuse! Needless to say, my earlier comment about “hate is a wasted emotion” was being demonstrated live, right in front of us. Other parents from his school assured us it was only one parent who felt his way… and please don’t tarnish them all with his vile. </p>
<p>I kind of like it when these little connections to Mom happen. Makes me feel connected to my youth…to my life before husband and kids…to the formative years that helped to shape who I could be… I don’t think I am my Mom…but I do think that I have a lot of good from both my mom and dad. I do know they loved us kids very much and their goals were centered on their kids happiness and success. I know I have a career in addition to a family and I am always grateful they showed me how to do family… cause it is more rewarding than career, to me. My mom did not “work” outside the home, yet she was immersed in substance abuse counseling/support and put in more hours than if she “worked.” She always had time for someone who needed an ear…and I will never be her equal in that respect.</p>
<p>My face always looked a lot like my late mom’s, but what unnerves me now is how much my hands do. I once read that the bodies medical students dissect are covered with a gauzy wrap and that the hands are the last thing that gets uncovered, as they reveal so much about the person. Not sure if that is true, but it makes sense to me.</p>
<p>Two sisters, one mother and one wife (whose mother I know well).</p>
<p>Observation: Menopause was the common re-turning point for both wife and sisters. All of them admit to it readily, but strangely enough with the next breath they also deny it. </p>
<p>I’m told: “It’s one of the things men can’t understand.”</p>
<p>I turned into my dad when rap music came along. I started listening to rock music when the Beatles came to the US the first time and I was 12. I managed to stick with rock through all the subsequent changes and genres until rap. When I heard rap music I began channeling my father: “You call that music? You can’t understand any of the words!” The exact same things he said about the Beatles 40 years earlier.</p>
<p>I’ve been gradually beginning to resemble my mother physically since my 30’s.
In recent years, the more frightening prospect is that I’m beginning to act like my mother-in-law.</p>