The other day, I picked a fridge magnet that read; ‘Mirror mirror on the wall, I am my mother after all’. I liked the line; I liked the quirky design of the magnet. But most of all, the line hit home. My Amma and I, like I often say, are poles apart. We have nothing in common. I am not someone who calls her up every hour to update and share minute details of my life. She is my mother, and I love her but I would have chewed out anyone who even suggested I would be just like her when I had a kid of my own.
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Amma, who had a full time job made sure there was fresh food on the table and clean clothes to wear. She did not fuss over my brother and me, but she was there when we needed it. She didn’t quite understand what I was saying or reading or watching most times, but she was game to listen to my endless whining. And I all along, was the selfish child… who didn’t at that point stop to think how tired she might be at the end of a long day… or how irrational some of my demands were. She might have snapped at me but I almost always got what I wanted. Though definitely times were different 20 years ago… our demands were of a more basic nature. Different shoes, maybe more books or more time to play.
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My daughter is a little over three-years-old. She doesn’t get it if I say Amma is tired and hence cannot carry her to the first floor. She howls and sulks if things are not done her way. And most times, time-outs don’t work. When I tell my Amma this she gives me an indulgent smile and says,” This is how it was with me. And then, I get all puffed up and set out to prove that I can mother better by inculcating discipline… and end up flat on my face when Ankita looks up at me with full trust and says ‘Amma, uthao please’ (pick me up)!
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My baby is my heart. She is not the centre of my existence, but she comes pretty close. I think it was the same for my Amma. She taught me a lot that has held me in good stead. I am the mother I am because I watched her and unconsciously had drawn a mental picture of how a mother behaves with her child… with lots of love, lots of smiles and lots and lots of patience.
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I guess what they say is true. With time, mothering changes… but mothers seldom do. They are always putty in their children’s hands. They are always going to put the child before themselves. They are always going to get hurt when their child grows up. They are never going to hold a grudge. And whether they like it or not, they will measure themselves against their mothers.
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Uma Iyer is a writer, a mother and a freelance consultant for marketing communication to several organisations. She was raised in Mumbai and currently lives in Delhi. Her retirement plan includes two dogs, many books and a shack by the sea.
This post was previously published @ Dove blogs, Yahoo.com