"When I left home for college in D.C., my parents came to visit. The city had just planted a bunch of flowers in the pots that line its sidewalks. My mom was delighted. She got the idea to steal one and bring it back to her own garden. She found a plastic bag, uprooted a particularly beautiful flower, and made out like a bandit. I hadn't noticed this side of her before. She was like a little girl, playful and giddy with mischief. I suddenly knew where I got my Loki gene from.

 

"That day, I realized there was so much more to her than what I’d known growing up. Since then, she has continued to surprise and delight me with the nuance and complexity of her character, strength, and wit."

"Earlier this year, I dyed my hair from blonde to dark brown, and after I changed my Facebook profile picture, my sister e-mailed: 'I was scrolling through my updates, and my first thought was, How come I've never seen that picture of Mom before?'" 

 

"Our mom died in 2000. At her memorial service, one of her friends who hadn't seen me in decades came up and said, 'Well, you're obviously one of Pattie's.' People who had known her for ages said they saw her when they looked at me—a version of her I'd never known, except from pictures. (I was 25 when she died, and she was 38 when she had me). I've always known I look like my mom, but it's only now, at 37, that I'm really starting to see her when I look in the mirror. 

 

"I'm like my mother in a zillion other ways—smart, funny, anxious, depressive, short, fat, friendly, loyal, judgmental, gossipy, cuddly—but it's the face that both creeps me out and comforts me most in her absence. I can't even imagine how it's going to feel in a few years, when my face catches up to my memory of her."

"Turning into my mom has never been a scary thing for me. Of course there are little things that she does that annoy me—she talks SUPER loud on the phone and it's torture to be in the same room when she's catching up with a friend—but generally, I could only hope to be as great as she is.

"Usually I catch myself acting like my mom when I'm problem solving. My mom's always been an expert at navigating tricky situations; she's hands-on and doesn't mind getting a little bit dirty. I've completely inherited her habit of showing up early to parties and helping the host optimize their space for ultimate functionality and flow. It's usually around the time that I've moved someone's bar across the room or rearranged their buffet that I'm like, 'Woah. You completely can't even help yourself right now. You've turned into Seana.'"

"My mom has high standards. She sends food back if it isn't cooked to order. She returns purchases that don't live up to her expectations, even when returns aren't covered by the store's policy. She complains to managers and bureaucrats and government officials. She asks to speak to supervisors. Her official motto is, 'Ask. The worst they can say is no.'

 

"As a child, this behavior mortified me. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole in the ground and disappear when she did it, or, barring that, sidle up to a milder-mannered mom nearby and pretend I was with her. Sometimes I still cringe when she makes a fuss over something I'd let slide.

 

"But I can't count the number of times that I've been faced with a daunting hurdle—whether it's pitching an article to a dream publication, making a request for a big donation for my organization, or even expressing a vulnerable need to an intimate partner—that I've leaned on her example for support. I just repeat to myself, 'Ask. The worst they can say is no,' and I feel my spine stiffen. Then I go after what I want and need in the world, with my mom backing me up."

"Growing up, I would often roll my eyes at how nervous my mom got while traveling.  She insisted on getting to the airport earlier than recommended, and yet she always fretted—on the ride there, standing in line, going through security—that we wouldn’t make the flight.

 

"A couple weeks ago, I went to Mexico with my boyfriend and was unintentionally a perfect mimic of my mom—waking up with a nervous stomach, arriving at the airport excessively early, and commandeering both of our passports for safe keeping. As with so many other things in life, it was easier to be calm when she was there to worry for me."

Samhita Mukhopadhyay, Outdated: Why Dating Is Ruining Your Love Life

"My mom is hopelessly superstitious, to the point where she sometimes believes more in superstitions than she does science or common sense. She told me the scariest ghost stories as a child—and then insisted they were true. She consults with a psychic regularly—mainly about when I'll get married.

 

"In order to overcome my deeply internalized fear of the unknown, I committed to never believing the hocus pocus. Until recently, when some of my mom's odd beliefs began drifting into my thoughts—like when I started to think maybe my dead cat's spirit was coming to visit me.

 

"I still think that's ridiculous, but I also recognize that thoughts like those are oddly comforting, too. I've since learned that a lot of my mom's beliefs that I first thought were absurd can also be real-life strategies for making sense of other people's behavior; for being cautious about their intentions; and most importantly, for staying positive and imaginative in times of duress.

 

"I have a very different belief system from my mother's. But by seeing how much she's overcome through her spirituality, I've learned to respect the way other people think—and get comfortable suspending reality sometimes myself. Once in a while, I catch myself wishing and praying to the 'unknown' with the same hope that things will ultimately be ok. My mom taught me to trust that they will be—even if my cat isn't really prowling around my apartment at night."