I was confronted by this question this morning when I realised that, much like my mother, I have become quite fond of a particular shade of brick-red lipstick. And, like her, all my makeup comes in shades of ‘Cadbury colours’ – purples and chocolate browns.
This is not hereditary; I learned this along the way. I started thinking about all the little similarities between my mother and myself.
And why do people say you’re turning into your mother like that’s a bad thing?
I mean, my mother has
- Survived a war (while pregnant, newly-wed and moving house)
- Run a business
- Taught four young girls how to knit
- Bandaged countless wounds, cuts and bruises (both emotional and physical)
- Cried over sick grandchildren
- Baked heavenly cakes
- Given good advice, counsel, guidance and prayer requests
- Rescued a child from an abusive partner
- Fed the hungry and clothed the poor
- Prayed for a nation, and
- LOVED THE SAME MAN FOR THE LAST 46 YEARS OF HER LIFE!
My mother, however, is no saint. But what I admire most about her is her ability to make the most of what is available to her.
She is as human as the rest of us, with all her faults and strengths. I am in no position to judge.
“All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That’s his.” Oscar Wilde
I admire her for all the times in my childhood when she would take the simplest things in the fridge and turn them into delicious meals. For the times when she would take week old bread, 2 day old pineapple pieces and leftover bones from her beef shopping and turn them into French toast, pineapple tarts and rich broth, respectively.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with turning into your mother, as long as you learn from her good qualities and habits.
I love that as my mother has gotten older, she’s shrunk just a little bit, enough so that we are now the same height…she was taller than me for so long! Now we stand eye to eye, and though she has never been emotionally expressive, I can’t seem to keep myself from touching her soft hands or hugging her when I see her.
A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie. ~Tenneva Jordan
I love my mother’s biting sarcasm and her quick wit. i love that she does the crossword puzzle in pen, just to tick off my father, who looks forward to doing it with her daily. It keeps him on his toes, and by the next day he gets his hands on the paper first!
I love that at 72, my mother still feels the need to play with my father, to compliment him and flirt sometimes in that special way she has.
I love that she can answer me honestly when I ask the loaded question, “Does this make my ass look fat?”
That she is my biggest fan, and thinks all my ideas have merit, so I can run them by her without fear of being criticised or made fun of.
The greatest compliment I have ever received was given to me last year, when I went to see a close cousin who was dedicating her baby in church.
There I was in her kitchen, sweating, cooking, pounding, crushing, slicing, peeling, mixing and frying as she sat in the corner cradling the baby. Suddenly she asked me where I learned all I know about baking, cooking, and crafting. And her mother said,
“Well, can’t you see she gets it from her mother? I never saw someone with such a gift for taking something ordinary and making it special! That woman can cook cardboard and you’d ask for seconds!”
That made my head swell, my chest fill with pride and my eyes bulge with happiness!
… Or maybe it was just all the onions I was peeling at the time!?