The older I get, the more I am afraid of not becoming like my mother. Most women have a fear of just the opposite, to say the words they heard as children, to discipline like their mother, to act the way their mother acted. Usually, this is before they realize that their mother was a saint-genius-patient-loving soul of exhaustion.
Mom would bottle vegetables, can pickles and grape juice, making clothing for her kids, and raising 8 kids on her own.
Well, I started the long mom-becoming process this weekend. My sister, Kari, said a profound statement this week. She said, "Autumn is when women start 'nesting' for the winter." I think it is really true. For thousands of years, women have been hunting, gathering, and prepping for the long and cold winter. Imagine the fur-clothed mommy salting the meat for her young ones to eat throughout the snowy months.
Two things I swore I would never learn to enjoy: canning and sewing. So, I canned food for the first time this weekend. I have canned before, but never by myself, for myself. And this mommy has finally found the joy of canning.
No. Really.
24 jars of peach jam, 15 pints of peaches, and 20 jars of dill pickles. They all look great!
My feet are tired and my hands smell like garlic and dill.
And I am going to sleep to the sweet sound of the "pop" that means my jars are sealing.
It is the best lullaby.
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