What things do you do that you learned from your mom? For instance, in our family, birthday cakes are always chocolate with white icing. I am making one for my bf’s daughter and I just bought the same thing out of habit.
I also make some of the same meals just like my mom does. And she’s the one who taught me how to make bread, so I do that the way she does as well. Some of my cooking is of my own, but a lot of it came from her.
So, are there “mom” things that you adhere to? Or do you just do things your own way?
I do a lot of things like my Mom does, but I learned to question things as well, especially after this conversation.
Me: “Hey Mom, what do you do with the leftover pie filling that I always have after I make the traditional Christmas coffee cakes? I always have half a can of cherry and half a can of blueberry left over, and I stick it in the fridge until it molds, then I throw it out.”
There’s a wonderful story I read once about a woman teaching her daughter how to make a baked ham. Her instructions begin with, “Cut of the shank end and save it for soup.” Why? Because Mom did that, because Grandma did that, because Great-Grandma did that, because Great-Great Grandma’s wood burning stove was too small for a whole ham!
There’s a whole section of marketing devoted to the “mom sales” effect. Apparently, things like tissues, bathroom cleaner, window cleaner, toilet paper and canned soup are purchased way out of proportion to expected market share - because women are overwhelmingly likely to buy what mom bought.
I make a lot of the same meals as mom. Not just food items, but the whole meal. It ain’t burgandy meatballs without mashed potatoes and peas! Roasted chicken requires stuffing and green beans. I don’t make them every night, because they are too carby/rich for my family’s waistlines, but maybe twice a month I make a “mom meal” and it’s so yummy and nice.
Also, although I’ve become something of a Northside Snob and gormet, I have to admit that mom’s tuna salad is the best ever: canned tuna, mayo and sweet pickle relish.
:sigh: I’ve gotten so far down the road to becoming my mother that I don’t even recognize what I do like her any more. The last thing I really noticed was when I was taking the critters somewhere and yelled into the backseat, “If you don’t stop that right now, I’m going to pull this car over and start beating animals.”
Actually, I don’t notice myself picking up Mom’s way of cooking or keeping house or driving or whatever, but I find more and more of her mannerisms creeping into my life. And, of course, her body seems to be creeping into my clothes. I step into a pair of shorts, and my mother’s leg comes out, complete with varicose veins. I pick up my hairbrush and find her gray hairs in it. I pull on a sweater, and her arm comes through the sleeve. Damn.
I only buy Era. Mom got it because it did a good job cutting the grease on Dad’s work clothes. Neither the hubby nor I have greasy work clothes. But damn it, I’ve tried other laundry detergents and they just smell wrong.
I fold my towels in half shortwise, in thirds perpendicular to the original fold, and in half again. The hubby simply cannot remember how it’s done, no matter how many times I show him, and complains that there’s no reason to fold towels this way, and his way of folding them in quarters with all the corners and hems and edges flopping around out there is fine. Yes, sadly, my husband was raised by wolves.
Whenever we eat something in a restaurant that I think I could make at home, I always say, “You know, I could make this at home!” Then I smack myself firmly on the forehead, because my mother always said that when we ate out and I thought it was the lamest thing ever.
I have been slowly morphing into my mother over the last five years (help me!), so there are lots of things. Lots and lots. But I’ll just name a few: I use her baked chicken seasonings. The only casseroles I know how to make I learned from her. I keep my kitchen organized the same way she always did. When I’m drying dishes, sometimes I throw the dish towel over my shoulder for a second, exactly like she used to. I imitate her Thanksgiving dinners almost perfectly. I’ll stop there. Yikes. I am turning into my mother, and the weird thing is, I’m enjoying it.
My mom was a god-awful cook. She was always experimenting with different recipes to broaden our cultural horizons. I do the same thing except I’m a much better cook than she is.
I fold laundry like my mom did, though. Before you fold the item, you have to ‘snap’ it. I can’t explain what that means but for those who do it, you know exactly what I mean. My husband doesn’t do it and it drives me nuts. Even though I don’t say anything to him – no need to criticize because he doesn’t do it my way – I simply cannot be in the same room with him if he’s folding laundry.
ARGH! Yes! You are not alone! No matter how neatly my husband folds things, I just have this weird subliminal impression that he’s doing a sloppy, half-assed job if it, because he doesn’t do the Snap! (When done properly, the Snap makes the hems line up niced and straight, by the way.)
I don’t think I do anything like my mother does/did/whatever. She was a decent cook, but her menu consisted of about 20 selections mostly meat/potatoes; because my father was a picky eater. I probably have 200 cookbooks that I shuffle through depending on my mood.
I do not do laundry even close to what she did. Folding towels crossways do not fit on the towel rack correctly, so I fold my lengthwise. I do not use the same cleaning products as she does, because I don’t like the smell of them. Besides my house is much cleaner than hers is. Dirt just bugs me.
I don’t have kids, so I have nothing to compare for children supervision.
I get my tinkering/mechanical side from my father so that doesn’t count, same goes for fixing stuff around the house.
Nope, I can’t think of a single thing that I follow in my mother’s footsteps. Other than caring deeply about those around me that enrich my life.
Similar to this, I read an anecdote about a woman cooking her first Thanksgiving meal at her house. She put the turkey in the sink to defrost, just like her Mom did…in cold water, with the dish drainer propped up over the turkey.
When her Mom arrived on Thanksgiving morning to help, she noticed the defrosting turkey and asked her daughter what she was doing with the dish drainer over it. The daughter responded that she was doing it just like she’d learned from Mom…and Mom responded “Yeah…but you don’t have a cat!”