Yup.

I've rarely met women who wanted to become like their mothers. I've rarely met men who didn't want to become like their dads.

An interesting point about mothers and daughters. I wonder why that is?

"An interesting point about mothers and daughters. I wonder why that is?"

Dads are fun and cool and physics-defying. They eat meat, use manners sparingly and grunt.

Moms are about vegetables, doing homework and getting chores done. They use their manners all the time and they do not grunt. Moms know exactly what bone(s) will break or how many stitches any given activity will render, thus the answer is NO.

Dads sweat and mothers perspire.

Dads comb their hair, if that. Moms have to do their hair.

Dads sit comfortbly with their legs open. Moms have to keep their legs crossed and hope the pressure doesn't put their feet to sleep.

For boys, what a cool thing to look forward to. For girls, what an unholy restriction to be looming ahead.

While this was largely true, it may not be so much anymore as women are out there in the workforce, sports arenas and university in unprecedented numbers. Unlike themselves, their daughters are not getting an overall picture of subservience and submission. With a much less bleak outlook, more girls are going to want to be like their mothers.

For me, personally, my mother put vegetables on a stick and called it a vege-kabob. She did the same thing with fruit. She combined the two and called it dinner.

She arranged for two tons of sand to fill the sandbox she had dad set up with railroad ties and this is where we could make any sound we wanted to as long as it wasn't a curse word. She then told us we could swear when our vocabularies reached 50,000 words. By the time we were old enough to figure out there was no test for it, we were old enough to move out and swear all we wanted.

She taught us how to draw, write, letter (calligraphy), paint and do some basic remodeling. She brought milk and cookies when dad struggled to teach us math. She attempted to interest us in history (now it's one of my favorites) with musuem visits and regular trips to the library.

She fought her way through breast cancer and built a real-estate career out of nothing. I wanted to be like her and I very much am -- except for the breast cancer and that's because she taught me and my sister all about self-exams and regular check-ups.

I was glad to have inherited her long, shapely legs, but I'm all the more grateful that she taught me how to walk with my head held high.

I raised my kids the same way.

I used inflatable outdoor pool sets as reading and playing spaces indoors. My husband willingly help me set up outdoor furniture in our dining room and strung lights up inside the table's umbrella.

We went for ziploc-bag-walks wherein we gathered things to arrange and glue to a piece of poster board and we covered the walls of the hallway with these collages of environmental art.

My kids like me and I like them (not counting the teen years -- who counts the teen years?).

I genuinely liked my mother and she liked me. All of us are great storytellers and very funny -- wonderful gifts for one generation to have shared with the next.

Those raised differently, well, it's a grimmer picture. Who wants to be like someone who never allows themselves any fun amid all the hard work?

Diana, What a beautiful tribute to your parents! I'm glad we were both fortunate when parents were handed out!
My son once asked my Dad, "how was Pop as a teenager?" Dad answered, "when your Dad turned 16 I had black hair. When he turned 17 I had gray hair. Does that answer your question?"
Those were the days!!

Diana, if I did anything to inspire that reminiscence, cool.

Let me share one of my own. A few years ago, I was watching a tv show where the lead character realized he and his father had never said "I love you". I remember thinking, "idiots". I called up my parents and laughed about the lousy show.

There isn't a single thing, important or stupid, that my parents and I haven't said to each other. Looking back I think I'll always remember the stupid ones. Donnie, if you can look back on all the dumb things you've shared with your father, you've probably shared the important ones too.

baronius, you and donnie both inspired it...

you make a good point about the important and stupid stuff...i have a hard time understanding families that don't share hugs, pats on the back, "i love you"'s and more time together...where's the family part?

i don't think it's so much "to each his own" as it is "we don't know how"...it's almost heartbreaking because there are times when an observant person can see how others want to say something, they may even know the words, but don't have enough experience saying anything like that to just come out with it all ready...

my husband came from one of "those" families...i told him from the get-go he'd have to get over it and say things that made him uncomfortable until he wasn't anymore...

we married when i had two small children -- my kids were (and still are) affectionate, verbal and energetic...they may actually have made the transition easier for him...how can you turn away from a two-year-old who gives you his/her blankie when you're sick and says "i wuv you"?...

the clencher came when my son was three...my husband had told him "no" about going for a walk in the woods because we had a dinner engagement...my son didn't understand and my husband struggled to explain it...at one point my husband said "we just can't, period"...my son crawled up in his lap, put his head on his shoulder and said "you hut my feewings"...

had my husband's reaction been anything other than what it was (he hugged the boy and gently told him we weren't going to the woods but would after the sun came up two more times), he'd have been out the door...it's been a grand time since...

my kids are some of the funniest people i know as well as intelligent, well-mannered and confident...while i take a great deal of credit for how they came out, there's no getting around my husband's significant contribution...he's very intelligent with a wit so dry you could raise cacti on it...their relationship was largely defined by him making them laugh and them hugging him for it...this went on at the dinner table, during homework sessions, bedtime, you name it...all these years later, he doesn't know a family to be any other way...