The Waddle

Alas, I believe the day has come that I've turned into my momma!  Not that it is a bad thing. She was thoughtful, kind, considerate, organized and loving.  She ran the household which included my father and three older brothers. She planted a garden, flowers, canned, cleaned, mowed, cooked, sewed, served at church, etc. etc., etc. - I would be honored to have those skills.  But I'm thinking more about how I get out of bed in the morning or stand up from sitting too long.  It seems like my knees aren't what they use to be and I can see myself going through some of the same motions, expressions, and sounds that she did to get her body moving.  Even as I "waddle" through the house after a full night of tennis, I can't help but be reminded of her doing the same after gardening or working in the yard all day.  Plus the fact that we had a basement where she did all of the laundry and canning. Only in the later years did she spring for a regular washer.  She spent most of her life washing in an old conventional, ringing out the clothes into a wash tub for the "rinse" and then ringing them back through to be hung on the line to dry.  And the canning operation encompassed lugs of peaches, pears, apricots, homegrown tomatoes, corn, beets, pickles and whatever other produce could be gathered during the summer months.  Yes, my mother worked "like a trooper", she would say-something to inspire me to keep moving, no matter how big my "waddle" is!