Like Mother Like Daughter

Mama loved children. Drooling babies, unruly toddlers, screaming little girls, muddy little boys and everything in between. Her Baby Radar was always on and honing in on her next diapered subject. In the grocery store it would never fail. Within seconds she would making a bee line towards the itty bitty in the cart and ogle all over him or her. In church, if a little one was playing peek-a-boo over the pew in front of us, it was game on (on the flip side if I even thought of pulling a stunt like that during church ... not so cute).

As you can imagine when I saw that look in her eyes I would shrink back in horror. Could she be anymore embarrassing? Um, no. I was surely being tortured for reasons unknown.

I could of sworn that the parents of the accosted children were mortified over the assault by Mama. The reality was, they loved the attention their little ones were getting by the little crazy red head. However, I'm sure they were wondering what in the world was wrong with the snotty little curly haired, blue eyed girl.

I laugh every time my Baby Radar kicks in and I'm drawn to an itty bitty in a cart. Without a kiddo of my own, I can't swoop in like Mama used to (these days I could be mistaken for a whack job, baby stealer). I make sure to get an approving nod from the adult then do all I can to get smiles and giggles.

I'm adopted. I have never met someone I'm blood related to but I have grown up to be just like Mama. From my worry-wart mother hen ways to my really bad driving habits (yeah Bren, you're right). It makes me proud to be so much like the woman I admire and stive to make differences with my limited time on this big, spinning rock.

Love doesn't care about DNA.