It dawned on me once again today (because I have this epiphany every few months, especially on the heels of an emotional binge) that I am becoming more and more like my mother. I don’t mean traits and habits though I’m sure there’s enough present to guarantee I’m going that route. But I mean, my thought process, my ideology on child rearing and even my thoughts on marriage are starting to reflect hers.

I was such a rebellious child, I acted out in a major way in response to my familial crisis. I reference my childhood vaguely in this blog because I want to keep it friendly, but should you ever want a little insight check out Rebellious Ink. As my daughter grows and I watch her develop into a young lady, I can’t help but be over zealous in my observations. She’s so much like me it’s scary. She’s so much like me I fear she will follow in my footsteps. So how do I cope? I call my mom. I ask her what it was like to mother me, what went through her mind, what she felt she did wrong, and how she thinks I can get it right.

Truth be told she doesn’t always have the answer, it’s not like I didn’t take her for the ride of her maternal life. However, there’s an odd sense of comfort in knowing that she understands, knowing that my fears or concerns are normal, knowing that if I need her kind voice or soft hug that I can have it. My mom was never perfect, not by far, but as an adult I realize she was no more flawed than I am now as a parent.

I used to say things like “I will never be like her!” or “I don’t understand your logic.” But nowadays I find myself repeating her rhetoric to myself softly throughout the day as if I’m trying to salvage those moments from my childhood. She’s so much stronger than she will ever really know, and I only could hope to be half the woman she was. She hardly takes notice of her own strength, and I try to do all that I can to remind her. Even though I know she’s not a social media person, and will probably never read this… I LOVE YOU MOMMY!