If you’re a parent, it’s an amazing, and sometimes humbling experience when you learn more about yourself by watching the way your kids turn out. My son has my brown eyes and brown hair. My daughter has my facial features to the point where people often tell me that I can’t deny her. But that’s not really what I mean here.
I have this weird habit that I can only attribute to being my mother’s daughter. Granted, I watched her do it for 18 years. But I don’t remember doing it then, and I’m long gone from life under the same roof with Mom. She can’t let a single newspaper or magazine leave the house without reviewing it thoroughly. Neither can I. What if I was supposed to learn something from that? Continue reading