Quarterlife Diaries: ‘Even if I only become half the woman my mother is, that is enough for me’

In Quarterlife Diaries, I take you weekly through all the things I, as a nearly 30-year-old, encounter. Mainly to vent my heart, but also to give everyone who is in the Quarterlife boat with me a boost. You are definitely not alone. This week: when you start to resemble your mother more and more.

My mother was 28 when she had me. I find that really wild. I am now 29 and still far from ready to be someone's mother. I can't even take care of myself nine times out of ten, let alone a mini version of myself who probably wouldn't do very well on three takeout meals a week and a spoon from the Nutella jar for dessert. No, I'm going to wait a little longer.

Still, I liked having a young mother. She always knew what was going on in our lives, had an eye for the coolest clothes of the moment so we never made a fashion mistake, and all the kids always wanted to play at our house because she made it so cozy. I looked up to her immensely and I still do. I didn't know much back then, but one thing I knew for sure: I wanted to be just like her when I grew up.

That it would happen to this extent, I didn't expect. It seems like I start to resemble my mother more every day, even to the quirkiest traits. I can still vividly remember that when she dropped us off at school, she always hung her bag behind the handbrake of the car when she wanted to get out, which created a comical scene every day. I would always laugh at her with a judgmental: ‘If this happens every time, why don't you put your bag somewhere else?’ This would never happen to me, I promised myself. Until a while ago when I wanted to get out of the car and felt something was stuck. You guessed it: my bag was caught behind the handbrake. Since that time, it happens to me every time and I have to laugh harder about it. My twelve-year-old self would look at me judgmentally now, but I just leave that bag where it is. It always reminds me of those nice rides to school.

Besides clumsy actions like this and constantly dropping things from the cupboard (but sometimes also catching them in an impressive way with my left hand), I have also taken on many traits that make my mother special. For example, I always look in stores for things that others have told me they have been looking for for a long time, just like she does for us. I hear her echoing phrases like ‘let's make it cozy’ when I want to reorganize a snack table because there are too many empty containers and glasses, and the advice I give my friends seems to come from a book on giving advice that my mother could have written.

By the way, I'm still far from it when I look at what she does for us. I have truly never seen such a strong woman as my mother. No matter what happens, she makes sure our family keeps running, that everyone feels heard and loved, and no matter how busy she is: there is always a spot on the couch of our parental home where you get hugs, blankets, and food when things are not going well. Maybe that's a talent you develop when you have your first child, that you can single-handedly keep the world turning. At least, I hope so. I don't know when that will happen for me, but as long as I keep getting my bag stuck behind my handbrake, I will surely get there. And even if I only become half the woman she is, that is enough for me.