Too many women dread hearing those words, getting upset or offended by the comparison but I think I could be nothing but proud if someone were to tell me I was just like my mum.
She had no methods to her parenting, she didn’t read how to books, have the internet or attend classes and support groups on how to raise her four children. If we woke in the night crying or upset, she was there to comfort and cuddle us back to sleep, or to take us back to bed with her and dad. She nursed us all as babies, and cooked and prepared fresh, homecooked meals every day, providing us with healthy breakfasts, lunches and snacks. We got more than plenty of fresh air, sunshine and activity. We were socialized and never lacked for peers and playmates. She always read to us, and would sit listening to us read to her. She helped us with homework, read our assignments and the stories we wrote, praised us for every picture and painting we drew, even if it left more paint off the paper than on it.
If it takes being like my mother to raise my son as well, then let it be.
