When I Grow Up, I Want to Be Like My Mom

The Older I Get, The More I Understand Her

But when you're a kid, your mom is just… your mom.

This is my beautiful mother, my cousin Gemma (mom's niece and one of her goddaughters), and me.

She is the person reminding you to do your homework. The one asking if you packed everything before you leave the house. The one who washes your green T-ball uniform. The one who worries more than you think is necessary and asks questions you feel like you’ve already answered three times.

At that age, you don’t really think about who she is outside of being your mother. You don’t see the patience it takes to raise people. You don’t see the sacrifices. You don’t see the strength it takes to persist the way she does.

You just assume that’s what moms are like.

But as you get older, something shifts. Slowly, almost without you noticing it, your mom stops being just the person who raised you and starts becoming someone you actually understand. A person with a past, and present, and a future. A woman with goals, desires, dreams, and fears... just like you.

Luckily for me, mine is someone I deeply admire.

I Love You, Despite...

Yes, my mom still does little things that make me roll my eyes sometimes.

She refuses to learn how to pronounce "jalapeño" correctly; says "bye" at the end of videos she sends me like its a phone call; talks to random people at the grocery store for too long; mixes up my sister and I's names daily; occasionally scrolls small-town Facebook for too long; and forces me to listen to her go on and on about the hundreds of lily and iris varieties she has in her garden that she can't wait to see bloom in months.

For a long time I thought those things were just quirks.

Now I realize they are evidence of something much bigger.

My mom is one of the kindest and most real people I know.

She has a way of making people feel seen without making a big show of it. She remembers details about people’s lives. She asks about things you mentioned weeks ago. She notices when someone seems a little off and checks on them without making them feel exposed.

It’s not performative kindness. It’s just who she is.

And the older I get, the more I realize that kind of character doesn’t happen by accident. It takes intention to move through the world with that much gentleness. It takes strength to stay soft.

So confession time: there was a long period of time in the past few years where I was mean to my mom. I cut her off from a lot of my life and this turned into disrespect toward her and my father. I didn't make time for them which showed where my priorities were and they didn't lie in God or my family. I could blame the guy I was with for pulling me away. And why that is so true, I was the one who allowed it to happen and saw my mom as an obstacle between me and my future with the guy.

I know this cut her deeply but I was too wrapped up in my own selfishness that I, quite frankly, just did not care at all about how what I was choosing and not choosing was impacting anyone else. Unfortunately, it hurt the one woman who wants more for me than anyone else in the the world the most.

When I finally snapped out of that phase and thinking, you know who was waiting for me with open arms and a glass of wine... my mother. Despite me choosing almost everything else over her, she stayed loyal to me and never stopped loving me.

When Your Mom Becomes Your Friend

And somewhere along the way, something else happened. Our relationship started to change. We stopped being only mother and daughter and started becoming friends.

Not in the sense that she stopped being my mom. She will always be my mom, and I will always need her in that way (and I know she will always need me to be her daughter). But now when we talk, it feels different. We talk about life in a way that feels more like two women sitting down together than a parent giving instructions.

We laugh about things. We share opinions. We tell stories.

Sometimes I even find myself asking what she would do in certain situations, not just because she’s my mom, but because I genuinely respect how she moves through the world.

We Get to Be Girls Together

Something else has been happening lately that I didn’t expect. I can feel pieces of her living through me.

Our lives are unfolding on different timelines. When my mom was my age, her world looked different than mine does right now. The paths in front of us weren’t the same.

But when I tell her about the things I’m doing, the places I’m going, the people in my life, the goals I’m chasing, I can see something light up in her.

It’s like she gets to experience parts of life again through me.

Not because she missed out on anything, but because that’s the beauty of being a mother. Your life continues in the lives of your children.

Sometimes it feels like we get to be girls together again.

We talk about things she once worried about. We laugh about things she once took very seriously. We share stories about relationships, friendships, and life in a way that feels less like advice being passed down and more like two people comparing notes.

And every once in a while I realize something funny.

Parts of my mom are already living in me.

Her kindness. Her patience. Her instinct to take care of people. Her belief that there is good in the world.

Those things didn’t come from chance. They came from her.

The Woman I Hope to Become

When I was younger, I didn’t think much about who I wanted to become. I assumed adulthood was something that just happened eventually. If I did, it was what job I wanted, where I wanted to live... that kind of thing.

But now that I’m actually walking into that stage of life, I find myself thinking about it more intentionally.

What kind of person do I want to be?

What kind of presence do I want to have in people’s lives?

What kind of character do I want to carry with me when things get hard?

And the more I think about those questions, the more I realize something very simple:

If I become half the woman my mom is, I will consider my life a success.

She is beautiful in a way that has very little to do with appearance.

She is strong in ways that most people never even notice.

She is kind in a way that makes the people around her feel safe.

Her spirit is warm.

Her love for people is contagious.

Her fear of the Lord is powerful.

Her smile is the kind that makes a room feel lighter.

And the older I get, the more I realize that those are the qualities that actually matter.

So if you ask me what I want to be when I grow up, I think I finally know the answer.

When I grow up, I want to be like my mom.

Go call your mom, remind her how much you love her, and make her laugh. Trust me, she loves that.

All my love,

Neva