Wonderful Mother
They say every aspect of our lives is affected by our parents. We spend our days mimicking what they did- or avoiding it. And while this gal from the kitchen isn't going to wade into the mechanics of psychology, I do see my mom in so many things that I do. While she may boast rich Italian olive skin and dark hair, I am her opposite with freckled pink skin and light wispy hair. Really, my personality is far more in line with my dad's mannerisms than hers. It appears we are nothing alike —but beneath this head of light, curly hair, my brain has perfectly synchronized with her way of life.
They say every aspect of our lives is affected by our parents. We spend our days mimicking what they did- or avoiding it. And while this gal from the kitchen isn't going to wade into the mechanics of psychology, I do see my mom in so many things that I do. While she may boast rich Italian olive skin and dark hair, I am her opposite with freckled pink skin and light wispy hair. Really, my personality is far more in line with my dad's mannerisms than hers. It appears we are nothing alike —but beneath this head of light, curly hair, my brain has perfectly synchronized with her way of life.
The other night, as I was flipping pancakes at 10 pm for a late-night snack, I joked with myself that I had just finished cleaning dinner and nightly chores and decided to go ahead and begin my morning routine. Much like my mother before me, my life revolves around food. I have an innate need to express my love for others with food. Feeding people is in my blood, and I know just where it came from: my wonderful mother.
I used to roll up to the house with Adam at 11 pm, fresh off the basketball court or home from a movie, in search of food. There was never any burden with the request for food, for my mom simply found joy in providing it for us. There's a cinnamon bread my aunt brings down from Pittsburgh that is perfectly nostalgic to me. My mom would toast a piece in the oven and scramble a few eggs with cheese. She had these tropical flower plates she hung onto for ten years too long, and she'd serve my midnight breakfast to me in the center of a blue hibiscus.
My siblings and I knew Mom loved to feed us. We knew we could bring whoever over, and she would make food appear. We lived close to school and would bring droves of friends home before games for nachos and cookies. She earned the nickname "breakfast fairy" from our overnight friends. Her door was, and still is, open. I even managed to get my parents to move within five minutes of me and my five kids, consequently reopening weekend kitchen hangouts with impromptu meals.
My siblings and I knew Mom loved to feed us. We knew we could bring whoever over, and she would make food appear. We lived close to school and would bring droves of friends home before games for nachos and cookies. She earned the nickname "breakfast fairy" from our overnight friends. Her door was, and still is, open. I even managed to get my parents to move within five minutes of me and my five kids, consequently reopening weekend kitchen hangouts with impromptu meals.
My mom, Elizabeth Rosenbalm, has been providing food for her community through Good Batch Mama for almost a decade, but her love for feeding people goes back to her roots. After being raised in an open home full of friends and Italian meals, she grew up to do the same and more. She delights in the sounds of voices in the living room and balls bouncing in the driveway, and earned the well-deserved name "Rosenmom" from Adam's high school peers. Although I've always called her mom, in 2014 when I got my first iPhone, I punched her name in as Wonderful Mother- and I haven't changed it since. Today is Elizabeth's birthday, and I wanted to show you how much she means to me and the people in her community by collecting a few "reviews" for her!
Wonderful Words for a Wonderful Mother
