I Am My Mothers Daughter

As a child my mother was my number one. She was the one I went to for everything. I saw no wrong in her, she was perfect and beautiful and I wanted to be with her always. I grew up a little and got to be a teenager. Mami was no longer number 1, she became kinda lame in my eyes. Many things she did annoyed me, embarrassed me, and I did not want to be with her. Instead I wanted my space and I didn’t want her asking me questions and trying to act like she knew me. I continued to mature and found myself in college, living the dorm life. This improved my relationship with my mother because she wasn’t in my way, so to speak. I began to realize how great I had it with such a loving mother, but so many things still annoyed me and I wouldn’t talk to her too much, just a little. I continued growing, finished school, somehow became a professional, and I moved back home. I am a roller coaster. From month to month things are never the same with me and my relationships with those around me, especially with my mom. But lately, despite the roller coaster, Mami and I are learning how to exist and love and care for each other amidst the shifting of age, maturity, careers, and random changes. The bond between a mother and daughter is precious and working to keep it whole is now a priority. It should have always been.
Growing up there were so many things I vowed I would never be or do, simply because I associated my mother with various characteristics, personality traits, mannerisms, etc. And who wants to be like their mom?? Yikes! But I have always seen my mother in me. I have spent much time disliking those parts of me, pushing them away, trying to make them disappear. Why? Because those are the parts of my mother I don’t like. But I’m done with that. I am learning to embrace the Mami in me. And lets face it, my mom is probably one of the coolest people ever, so having her in me is not a bad thing. It’s actually a very good thing. Why has it taken me so long to realize this?
So… I say it proudly now…. I am my mothers daughter…

I become flustered with simple tasks I’m not accustomed to performing.
When I feel I’m close enough to a person that I can have a say in their life, I nag.
I manipulate with an innocent smile.
I get excited and easily irritated by family when there are lots of guests in the home.
I am sincerely interested in what younger people are doing with their lives but it sometimes comes off as flakey.
I care too much.
If someone tells me something personal and serious I feel like I have a responsibility to “help” them.
I give advice I shouldn’t give.
I have a slight case of scoliosis.
I become involved in other peoples issues without being invited.
I talk too much.
I tear up easily.
I ask too many questions.
I love my family… dearly.
My concern for the less fortunate is so great it has formed my passion for my career.
I give.
I smile often, and giggle when I don’t know what to say or how to respond.
I spend money too easily on people I love.
I call my friends to keep in touch with everyone.
My eyes and cheeks are so big they are basically my entire face.
My legs and arms are too small for my torso.
I love music.
Spirituality has always been important to me.
Judaism intrigues me, as well as all religions, cultures, and beliefs.
Eating is extremely enjoyable for me.
I do good work which results in teachers and supervisors loving me and trusting me.
I assume too much.
When I cook, its pretty darn good.
I’m sensitive.
I'm a chubby kid.
I'm passionate.
I’m easily misunderstood and I easily misunderstand.
I think too much.
I love reading.
I am a malicious Colombian.
I love learning.
I dream big.

Good and bad. I get all of these things from my mother... and many more things as well. They are a huge part of who I am. I Am My Mothers Daughter. For life.