Denise Bud Rumble wrote
   But, no matter the age of the mother, or the daughter, the relationship stands as it always has, ageless – a mother, a child, the instinct to look  after one another just a part of who you are.

Her statement is true, and it’s one I appreciate more since having children of my own. When my children— as babies, toddlers or teenagers— were happy, I felt good, but when my children struggled with a chronic illness or a difficult diagnosis, I felt miserable too. When a daughter hit adolescence and nothing seemed right, we were both in pain.  One rebelling and the other trying to protect.

There was a time in the early years of parenting when it seemed to be a one-way communication. Mother loving and taking care of new baby. Mother getting up at night, feeding the crying hungry baby, regardless of the sleep she’s missing or how tired she feels. In time, though, the baby learns to respond, with smiles and baby kisses. One day much later, the child notices that mommy is sad or angry and asks “why” and offers a hug or a smile. Years later, it’s  the young woman giving  her mother advice on clothing or makeup, or listening and asking questions, which my daughters do for me from time to time.

I’m in the middle, my mother on one side, my daughters on the other, each of them asking of me and giving back. Each of them caring when I’m feeling unwell, each of them celebrating successes with me as I try to do for them.  They’re important to me, part of my relationships, part of my family.

Not all these moments are going to be happy for I am as much like my mother as my daughters are like me. We want and crave our own individuality.  Jane Christmas, author of Incontinent on the Continent, affirms that she is more like her mother than she wants to be. I have at times felt the same way, straining at the invisible ties that bind us together. I want to be myself. I want to be different from her, just as each daughter wants her own identity.

 We’re enough alike and different creatures from each other. I may be their mother, but I cannot mold them, only prayerfully guide them to be the best they can be.  I have made mistakes and can admit that. I am both a kissing mother and a scolding mother.  Sometimes the scolding is necessary. Sometimes the “no” is a safety issue. I have to agree with the quotation by author Pearl  S. Buck who once said:

Some mothers are kissing mothers and some are scolding mothers,
but it is love just the same, and most mothers kiss and scold together.