Q of the Week : How much are you like your mother?

I’m not sure why this popped into my head a few days ago, I know it had something to do with looking at my hands or hearing my own voice … something that suddenly reminded me of how much I’m like my own mother.  I get more like her as I get older, in physical ways at least.  We have similar voices, hair, hands, and share many traits.  We’re good at doing, organizing, suffering (almost) silently, guilt, and hostessing.  We listen well, love olives and chocolate, and delight in disappearing into novels (though there’s always a bit of guilt attached that we weren’t being productive).  We prefer to do things ourselves rather than ask for help.  We like to be in the background, but get a bit miffed sometimes if we don’t get any recognition for keeping things moving along smoothly.  We love Thai food, bread and butter, soups, and citrusy salads.  I wear my hair wadded up in a clip on the back of my head most days, she’s worn hers braided and pinned up in a barette for as long as I can remember.  I’m a lot like my mom, and the resemblance only gets stronger with time. I’d say we’re pretty aligned in temperment, and a bit alike physically.

How much are you like your mom? 

I let him have it tonight ...

It was a hard day with my eldest.  We got a lot of exercise for the 2nd day in a row (this I run/ he bikes thing is getting good!) and I think he was more tired than I realized.  We played a game before dinner, which then ended up being later than I expected, and then he fussed and fretted and grimaced about the food he was served.  Nothing was right, whining and attempted bargaining ensued, and I eventually sent him to his room to think about his attitude. 
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Life is like a box of Crayons ...

… you’re never quite sure what colors you’re going to need.  I have a lot of friends.  Some I’ve had forever, some for years, some for a day ore two, and they’re all important to me.  I tend to turn to certain friends for certain things.  I don’t usually call my childless friends to ask for parenting advice, or to my newest friend if I’m having a meltdown about my day.  I often feel drawn to specific relationships depending on what I want to talk about.  Some relationships are easy, the conversations range over absolutely everything, and the silences are golden.  These are the crayons stubs disappearing into the bottom of my precious box of 64, with the paper torn off and nary a point to be found.  Well used, well loved, and still colorful. 
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Seeing Myself in my Kids

The more I’m around Douglas, which is a lot these days thanks to home schooling him, the more I see myself in him.  It’s part of parenting, that sudden jolt when you hear your own voice, see your own features, or watch your own mannerisms reflected right back at you.  Sometimes it’s a joy, more often though I notice when it’s something I’d rather not have reflected.  I’m forced to face my own issues, and it hurts!
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