Not my mother.

I am not my mother.

My mother was a typical Southern lady and mother for her generation. She was always dressed impeccably and put together. Even when she was dressed casually she was put together, and always had on make-up and jewelry. She owned sweats, but they were for around the house.

Mom was talented. She could cook. Oh how she could cook. She also could sew just about anything. She could smock too. She made some darling smocked little girl dresses. At my birthday parties she made beautiful professional looking homemade birthday cakes. Straight out of the Wilson cake decorating book. Oh, and let’s talk about those parties. When I was little they were a treat. Cake, ice cream, party games like pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, Mother-May-I, bean bag toss, even one year an Easter egg hunt. There were also always party favors for my friends who attended. Mom planned, created, and set it all up herself.

The year I was born Mom was Carroll County (GA) homemaker of the year. She cooked, cleaned, canned, sewed, and managed a house with ease. The house was always clean, and Mom did not like clutter. She was a perfect stay at home mom. Even when she went back to work when I was in elementary school, she managed work and home with equal genius. She excelled at running the household finances and sticking to a budget.

I am not my mother.

I am most at home wearing t-shirts and jeans. I don’t mind going out in public with my hair wet and no make-up. I hate cleaning. Really don’t like it. I don’t mind cooking, but don’t do it very often. I wish I could sew. Oh how I wish I could sew. I can sew straight lines to make a curtain for my classroom, or hem a pair of pants, but that is about it. I am disorganized and terrible at staying on a budget. I am also a pack-rat. I often have a hard time balancing life between work and home.

I am not my mother.

However, I am learning that it is okay that I am not my mother. I am me. Melanie. I am working on being better at organizing and cleaning my house, cooking more often, purging clutter, and sticking to a budget. I am a work in progress, and that is okay.

I am also working on taking my best loved memories of my mom and applying them to Noah’s childhood.

I remember Mom playing games with me, like Candy-land, Chutes and Ladders, etc. I also remember her reading to me. A lot. We went to the library often. I loved getting Curious George and Amelia Bedelia books. I always knew I was loved so very much. Mom was firm, and she didn’t shy away from using spanking as a punishment, but even then I always knew I was loved.

I have many wonderful memories of my mom. I was not the easiest child to raise. I was stubborn and strong-willed, and when I got to be a teenager Mom and I butted heads… a lot.

I wish I had let her teach me to cook. I wish I had let her teach me to sew. She tried to teach me these things, but I just didn’t want to learn. I wish I had told her I loved her more.

She has been gone for almost 10 years now. My own children will never know her except through pictures and stories.

I am not my mother.

That is okay. However, if I can be even just a quarter of the Mom to my own children as she was to my sisters and I, then I will be dong alright.