i am my mother's daughter

I've never been one of those people who dreaded becoming anything like her mom.  In fact, there are many things about me that are just like my momma, and I couldn't be happier about them.

 

the way I scratch my nose.  the way I write encouraging notes to those who need them.  the way I do sweet things for my (soon to be) husband.  the way I love a good bean and cheese burrito...hers with salsa, mine without.  the way I always have a tube of Mentholatum in my medicine cabinet.  the way I top my salads and mix it all together.  the way I get back into my pajamas after my shower while I blow dry my hair and put on makeup (the way I really don't know how to do either).  the way I like to have well groomed toes and fingernails...she likes red/maroon colors and I like peach/orangey colors.  the way my lip pouts when I cry.  the way I like my back to be scratched...hard.  the way I like picking out gifts for people early and stashing them away in my closet.  the way I sometimes forget they're there and give them away 6 months later just because.  the way I always use my blinker.  the way I love the seasoning salt at Red Robin and shake it a perfect three times over a basket of fries.  the way I fold Danny's shirts.  the way I fold my shirts.  the way I taste test the food when I'm cooking.  the way a good TLC show is never a waste of time, especially if it involves 8 kids, a budget wedding, or some medical mystery.  the way I like to dance with babies...around and around and around she goes.  the way I love to read a good book...mom- Danielle Steel...me- not Danielle Steel...but still.  the way I crack an egg and take out the trash can to throw away the shell.  the way I don't like having unnecessary appliances on the counters.  the way we get kind of quiet when our feelings get hurt.  the way I love writing/receiving a good email.  the way I can't stand any fishy food.  the sound of my voice when I answer the phone..."Laurie?  Krystyn?  Kaylyn?  Who am I speaking to?"...we'd just giggle and hand mom the phone.  when I enjoy good grammar and nice manners.  when I iron in front of the television.  when I write my name I see her handwriting...tall and narrow and neat.  the way I always check the sale racks first.  the way a tub of ice cream can make it far but a box of cookies can't.  the way I put my arm over Danny's chest when we stop abruptly.  

I could go on and on.  

I am my mother's daughter.  And I love it.  

Happy Mother's Day, momma.  Thank you for being mine.  I love you dearly.