We often mother in a style which emulates our own upbringing, taking on the tricks of our own mums.
Quite often I have to stop a moment to remember a time when my mum did something I’ve just found myself saying or doing too, the little nuances passed on like genes as we realise slowly but surely we are turning into them.
I tell my own mum often that she reminds me of grandma and she grins at some memories while offering a grimace at others thinking “but I hated it when she did that!”
The lick of a finger before being wiped over a crumby mouth is, despite saying I never would, something I now do myself and wince realising I’m doing things I hated my mum doing too, but there are other, lovely things I’ve inherited in my mothering and I am lucky enough to be bringing up my babies with my mum along-side me.
I have the benefit of her wisdom, kindness and maternal instinct shared with me as I go, she is also here to hold my hand when I need it and pass me a wet wipe if she sees me lick my finger because she will say “well, I never did that Ruth!”.
