My mother was sixteen when I was born, and I think she struggled for many years to become what she thought a mother should be. I was always aware of her fear of making mistakes and the defensiveness that accompanied that fear. I respected that she tried so hard, and I even learned to love the trying. I made very different parenting choices with my children, in part, because of the lessons I learned from my mother. My mother is a wonderful grandmother and great-grandmother, and I’m so glad that she relishes those roles. Have I turned into the woman she was? No, but I think she may have turned into the woman I am.

My mother is a friendly person - people like her - she has a good sense of humor - that I hope I have, too - at least I have an appreciation for humorous things. She graduated from high school but gave me a hard time about going off to a university - wanting me instead to go to the local community college. She was tenacious in getting special services for my handicapped brother at a time when those services weren’t readily available. She became a fighter of bureaucracies - and I am definitely that. She despises controlling wasteful government: me too. She was frugal but bought me nice clothes - and a horse - then she took up riding - competitive trail riding -and was very bold. My mother lost her own mother at age 4, then was shipped off with her sister, 7, to her grandmother’s. But granny had a boyfriend who wasn’t happy with the girls around, so grannie put them in a Catholic orphanage for 2 years. Mother, once I married, was very detached, very self-serving, left my father, stricken with a brain tumor, for another man - at the worst moment possible - something I would never, never do. (Reminds me of the song: “You pick a fine time to leave me Lucille, with 4 hungry children and a crop in the field.”) I will call her, and she always says she’s been thinking of me - but she will never call me - even after weeks and months go by. She has 10 grandchildren, but doesn’t communicate with any of them. She says she’s busy, can’t figure out the time differences, etc. Whatever. Mother’s Day is always a challenge because none of the cards seems right - all of them are too gushy. I usually pick one that says: Thinking of you. We have a polite, peaceful relationship.

Oh Hell No! My Mother did not raise me, my Father, Grandmother and our housekeeper raised me. So, my female role models were two VERY different role models, but wonderful. I am most like my Father, and I am very proud of that. When relatives say “You’re the female version of your Father!” My heart swells with pride. He was a wonderful man. I “Mother” my own sons by following what my Father taught me, and doing the exact opposite of everything my Mother ever said or did. It works.

Like Maggi D. and millions of other women, I lost my Mother when I was a child and lost the North Star that guides who we become. Yet, from my out-of-focus recollections and insight from my older sister, I believe I inherited her resilience. If so, that would be enough of a gift to last my lifetime.

first thing in the morning, before i pop my eyeglasses on & i’m in the bathroom about to brush my teeth & i’ll squint into the mirror & there’s a ghost staring back at me. i see my mothers’ face. and, it’s ok now - i can stare into those eyes & feel neither guilt nor sadness about her being gone. we tore each other down & built each other up & finally, in middle age, i can accept the imperfections of my mother & myself.

In some ways yes — intellect, curiosity, manners. In other ways NO!!! — no martyr syndrome for me, I am much more aggressive, stylish, outgoing, quick tempered, willing to take chances. Physically I am not at all like her. She was short, buxom, olive-skinned, brown hair and eyes, tended to be overweight. I am a bit taller but naturally very slim, pale skin, hazel eyes, light hair. I look much more like my maternal grandmother and I think personality-wise I am much more like her too. As I’ve aged and mellowed, I actually try to be more like my father. He was a natural salesman but everyone loved him for his sunny disposition, his outgoing personality, his ability to talk to anyone about anything.

This is a tough one for me. My mother is an alcoholic. She has always been self-absorbed, distant, a constant complainer who believes the world owes her something. She has no real friends, she is mean to her saint of a husband, and she’s never had any use for her children or grandchildren, unless she’s in public and wants to give the appearance of family. She is a convenient hypocondriac, (meaning something went wrong with her health every time she got a job, so that she couldn’t work more than a couple of months at a time.) Because of all of this, I have spent my entire life trying to do everything exactly the opposite of the way she did it. I am most proud of the fact that I’ve basically accomplished this. So, no I hope I never do turn into my mother. I do however, hope that someday my son will be able to be proud of his mom.

Like my mother?? yes in many ways thats ok!!! She was advocate for the underdog,ugly duckling,and the elderly.The older Iget,I do resemble my mom .She was the life of our house growing up,everybody always wanted to come and eat at our table,just to be withmy mom.I lost her this March 28th,been thinking and trying NOT to think about how to celebrate this mother’s day without her in the room.Kind of aches for now.In the long run,I KNOW I was loved and cherished along with my sisters toher last day.Most of all I can truly say she was one of my BEST FRIENDS.Happy Mother’s Day girls.

MH C - I’m glad. I don’t know anyone else who feels the way I do about my mother. It can seem at times, that everyone else has these great moms/role models, and that can feel kind of lonely at times.

Want to recommend a book, Motherless Daughters, by Hope Edelman. My mom sort of checked out from shock treatments and addiction when I was eleven, and she died when I was 17. I didn’t know her as a person, but the foundation she gave me was tremendous. She loved unconditionally. She was altruistic. She filled her life with books, and she played classical piano. She taught school, and made the best hand knit red sweaters with silver buttons and double knit mittens ever! She made something called Congo Bars, and great fudge and let us roller skate through the house during the day. My father was authoritarian and we went to bed at 7 every night. When I was a little girl, babushka type women came to our little house on Wren Street, sat in our kitchen, talked about the “Iron Curtain” (which is thought was a great iron bath curtain across Russia) and learned to speak English. They were Latvian women who had lost their husbands, and my mother taught them for free. I as her daughter, years later, in 1980 would arise to a call to travel from Moscow to Siberia, and through Ukraine, with a peace group and then live in Ukraine and Belarus from 1990-1993. I am not an alcoholic, but addiction runs through me. I am sensitive as she was, but had therapy, and used tools of insight which came down the path later than her era, and have overcome a great deal. Her unconditional love sustained me when I was a little girl. I think personality wise I am a mix, father and mother. My twin though was like my father, and I seemed more like my mother. I have read somewhere, it is the father’s behavior that affects the girl, and the mother’s behavior that affects the boy. Any recognition of this? Okay have happy days.