In some ways, I suppose we all have that "Oh My God, I’ve turned into my mother" moment; but actually I’m very different than she was.  My mother should have been a child of this generation and thus not have had to have children.  She was smart, she was charismatic, she was an expert at that guilt thing, she loved us; she just didn’t know what to do with us.  We were kind of appendages……and my father followed her lead.  And yet we were very close when I was older; too close; I became the confidant and my brother always remained the son.  She did have a wonderful sense of humor and hopefully I do too — she saw the ridiculousness in the posturing of many.

 There’s one story that could have been one of those skeletons in the closet, but one important thing she did teach me, was that you make your own skeletons; usually secrets with which some people like to create a weapon. 

My mother was a gambler; a big one actually.  Considering our means (not very much at all) I don’t know where she got the money.  We had a bookie coming to our house regularly; she bet numbers; she played poker for a lot of money.  She was in a big poker game that met in a woman’s house in a very posh neighborhood.  At the time, I must add, my mother was about 65 and the youngest member of this group.  The woman’s children thought she was gambling away their inheritance, and she probably was, but it was still hers.  They called the police and the game was raided.  The police took these old ladies to jail for the night.  At the time my husband was the public defender for that district.  My mother called us and told us she was arrested and that she needed my husband to get her out. 

The police in that district were having a field day telling my husband they were going to hang his mother in law (he said "hang her").  When my mother told the story she would say that all these older women had to pee and the police wouldn’t let them go when they were ready to go — they told them they would be peeing on the floor if they didn’t get to go.  They had medications they needed; you get the picture……I think the police were sorry they ever answered this call.

"Sports Illustrated" had a cartoon that month in their magazine depicting an old lady with a bun, glasses hanging around her neck being dragged by two burly cops with playing cards trailing behind them — the caption read:  Big raid at Black ……….<the woman’s last name>". 

Months passed, my mother’s trial came and went; she was fined; the money had been confiscated — quite a large sum.  On New Year’s Eve we went to a party where the arresting officer (a man my brother and husband grew up with) and the captain of the district were there.  When we were introduced, and I realized who they were, I told them I couldn’t talk to them, they arrested my mother…grandmother to my children…loyalty dictated that I shun them.  They said they would make it up to me……..and they did.  They got me my mother’s mug shot.  (Now come on, how many people have a mug shot of their mother :)   )

For Mother’s Day of that year we had the picture enlarged and framed.  That was a story in itself, taking that to be enlarged and trying to explain it away.  We wrapped the enlarged, framed picture as a gift and gave it to my mother.  She really laughed and laughed; my aunt thought it was a good picture, my father?  He didn’t like it.  He didn’t think it was funny AT ALL.

And thus we have a Grandma Pearl story that goes through the ages.  Just last week two of our grandchildren asked me to show them which one was Grandma Pearl in a picture from our wedding. 

My children loved her and miss her still, even though she’s been gone more than twenty years.  It seemed that either she mellowed or knew how to show them her love more than she knew how to show her children — I think she regretted that.  She often told me in later years that I knew how to do it right in my marriage, in my parenting — it was nice to get validation from your mother :).

A "PS" if I may — after reading some other posts.  When I once said that I don’t remember a happy childhood; my mother snapped, "who’s childhood was happy?  No one had a happy childhood." 

Our own children have described their’s as idyllic and have tried very hard to  duplicate it for their own children. 

I am like my mom in more ways than I ever imagined. Because I lost her in my early twenties, my awareness of her is more than the average person.  So, I am a woman who craves her mothers habits and traits if even to just hold on to her memory.   

Some of the things I share of of my late mom are: my looks, my tardiness, hair and eye color and my sweet tooth.   

A bad heart like my mom, a jovial disposition like my mom, caring about others like my mom, a short chunky stature like my mom.

But she became a heavenly angel when she was age 49 and I was a young child. I haven’t yet become like her in that respect but I will one of these days. Sometimes I can’t remember exactly what she looked like, but I remember her smell and I like to use fragrance too.

The older I get the more I am like my mother, especially when I became a mother.  So many of the things that she did and said to me as a young women, I’m doing to my daughter.  And, my daughter calls me on it.  We have a good laugh at it, and it makes me feel so sad that she’s not with us anymore.  She loved her grandchildren and was always there with good advice on raising them.  I have one grandchild, and I find myself advising my daughter exactly the way my mother did to me. Then there was also a part of her that I’m not like, and I am very grateful for that.  She was definitely a person who preferred being alone, and at times could be very critical of people. I try very hard not to be that way.  But all in all, I think I am lucky to have had a mother like her, and hope my daughter will feel the same about me.

My mother survived polio during the Great Depression in the rural South.  She picked by hand the cotton the machines left behind, and milked cows & plucked the chickens her Dad dispatched with his axe.  She attended college when most of her chorts were married with children.  When she did marry, she had nine children ( plus at least 2 miscarriages ) in 15 years.  She held the family together through the collapse of the family farms ( both sides of the family), recessions and my father drinking away his meager blue-colar paycheck by toting us all  to church every week, growing enough food to feed a small army ( ‘cause that’s what we were) through the year, and making sure we had a strong sense of right & wrong.  We all had clothes & shoes ( not plentiful, but clean & in good repair), plenty of food … and most remarkably, a private school education through 8th grade.  More importantly, she instilled in all of us the importance of service to others & education of ourselves.  Today, her children are ( among other things ) doctors, an engineer, teachers, & a police officer.  And that’s just her daughters !

Am I like my mother ?  Iwould count myself fortunate to have inherited her kindness, determination & spirit.

being that my real mother left with her new husband when was 4yrs old and then returned from okinawa (where that thing she married was stationed in the army) as my auntie when i was 8yrs old. i cannot say i am very much like her. she did lose a child ten years before i was born and couldn’t deal with crying. so her sister adopted me and with her mothers help raised me. so my real aunt was my step mother. i don’t remember what she was like before she found religion. so i know i’m not like her because i didn’t turn my religion into a cult.

she drank, smoked and slept around (so she said) before she joined the jehovah’s witnesses. after that she turned it into her OWN personal cult. she took any rule they had and twisted it further to make herself and i robotic. i had to wear dresses that were to my knees, was not allowed to go to parties, celebrate any holidays or even go to school dances. at halloween when other ppl were giving out candy i was giving out little tracts with lessons and scriptures on them. the next year we had to put pennies taped on them to be accepted by the kids. most never came back. i liked seeing their pretty costumes. anything that was not rated G was not allowed even for herself. sex and violence weren’t allowed even a little bit when i was a teenager. she thought the old action show "starsky and hutch" was too violent for me to watch. i could only associate with other witness kids, unless i could get them interested in reading the bible with me (you can imagine how well that went over, but i never bothered to do it). i wore glasses and with having to dress like a quaker i stood out like a sore thumb in a bunch of mini-skirted girls. there was always somebody picking on me, calling me out to fight (i wasn’t allowed to, but at the time i was a coward anyway), or just generally harassing me every chance they got. i got the sticks and stones speech a lot. 

my grammy tried to make up for it by letting me watch tv that my step mother wouldn’t let me watch and let me play more than do chores. it wasn’t a lot. but it sure helped and she was always there to make me feel better with cookies, cakes and other goodies (she lived with me and my step mother). i guess you could say i’m very much like my grandmother. she had no problem speaking her mind, disciplining her grandchildren or standing up for them when needed. the problem is she and my real mother died when i was 14 and i felt i had nobody after that because i had never really bonded with my step-mother. she had a lot of problems that made her own brothers and sisters in the congregation not like her. she did have some friends tho believe it or not. they of course were just as strict as she was. but her grandkids managed to get around it most of the time. no me, unfortunately. 

my step mother joined the church to stop smoking, drinking and sleeping around with men. i understand that the witnesses being extremely puritan in their views were right up her alley. but i think even she scared them. so for a long time i was shy, retiring and scared. but after i married my first husband and my son was born. suddenly i broke out of my shell and started doing what i wanted. it pissed my husband off because i was changing and he didn’t like somebody with a back bone or an open mouth. we had one more child and then 2yrs later i was out of his life. my step mother died a year after we were married and is in the NEW world where she wants to be living life in paradise and is happy (per her beliefs). she would probably had a heart attack if she knew what i had become. no i don’t smoke, but i do have drinks and have also had bf’s and fiances without being married. she would kill me. lol!

so i like to think if i was like her at all, it would be the her before cult leanings. with all that, i still don’t know who i am like except myself!!!

The choices are worded with a bit too much emotional emphasis, imo; I voted "Other."

I’m very much unlike my mother; take strongly after my father in personality and temperament.

How ironic I come across this poll right now, considering 3 female friends are very recently complaining about their daughters! :-( I’ve recently gotten the highly unpleasant "vibe" that my circle of friends favors males regardless; which makes me wonder what they secretly think of me…

My mother was born in the 20’s one of nine.  Her background wasn’t one of glamour but of helping and doing her share of household duties. I admire her so much because of her ability to become such a great lady and great beauty.  My father had his faults and mother took it as we all did.  Her motto was going along to get along.  Times have changed and women are more independent and run their own homes.  How am I different from my mother?  I stand up for myself and speak up when need to.  P.S.  My mother had the best laught of anyone I know.