Becoming My Mother

A Sunday usually finds us up early, if not bright, and on our way to church.  We still go to church  in Velma  even though it a long drive.  It means an early morning, but it is where we are fed, where our church family is.  Afterwards, we go home to my parents' house for dinner and visiting.  Really, lots  and lots of visiting.  Mom and I discuss everything under the sun from politics in third world countries to the progress on their house remodeling.

Bell thinks it is funny that I still like to see my mom that much.  She knows Grandma Jo is my mom,  but  Bell doesn't think about my mom and I having a relationship.  So many of the things I do with Isabella are the things that someone did with me.  Bella started cooking with me long before she was 2.  I remember sitting on my grandma's counter with a mixing spoon.  My momma always made cookies or bread and let us kids mess in it with her, never complaining about the flour in the flour or a dropped egg. The "little mouse " game is one my Aunt Margaret played with me.  I used to be her Bitty Girl and now Bell is mine.  I remember helping my mother and grandmother in the garden just as I let Bell do.
Tonight Isabella was explaining the word appropriate to me.  Then she gave me a little lesson on sarcasm.  I don't know if I knew about sarcasm at her age, but I do know all my big words as a child came not just from books, but from my mother.

We did not go to church today because there was not a regular hunch service and because I thought we might have company (which did not come to pass - this house needs some guests).  I got crazy amounts of work done from cooking and cleaning to getting winter coat and pjs ordered for Bell.  Despite feeling like the super housewife today, I did still miss my mom.  She is the sort of mom who invests time in her tribe of children, not just money.    So today, even though I was busy, I made sure there was time for pumpkin carving.  A walk to Grandma Rubilee's with an apple pie to share.  A little lap time before bed.  A tuck-in story.  Some people always make becoming one's parents sound bad, derisive.  I would take it as a compliment.