It's Mothering Sunday

As my children grow I am ever conscious of aspects of my and my husband's personality and physical make up that we have passed on to our children.

Both of them, for instance, have been 'blessed' with the long neck and short legs that their parents have been living with all their lives. Modelling, I think, will remain an elusive career choice.

I am sad to say that two of my traits have been passed on to my daughter that I wish had stopped with me. The joy of the bushy eyebrow and the propensity to worry about everything. These two collided this weekend - she is worried about her bushy eyebrows, or more accurately her eye-eye-eye brow as she puts it. Yes, if you look closely, there isn't much of a gap between her brows but why is she worrying about it now? I didn't even look in a mirror till I was about 15 and didn't notice the monobrow till approx 21 when I started the agony of plucking. They say children are growing up faster - too true.

So for a few weeks she has been mentioning 'the brow' and I have been assuring her of her beauty (she really is impossibly beautiful) and how no-one could possibly notice and how you always see your own 'imperfections' far more than anyone else does. But then she told me that other girls at school have pointed it out to her and now, of course, I realise that all the mum reassurance in the world will not do a bit of good in the face of that. So I resist the urge to advise her to ask the vile school girls "Who knitted you, woolly head?" (a well tried and tested family method for dealing with unpleasant children) and tell her that we'll head to Boots the Chemist where they hold the solution to this problem.

A small purchase later I apply a tiny wax strip to the bridge of my daughter's nose, pull off quickly and a life time of 'hair management' begins. She is over the moon at her new look which assuages the slight guilt I feel. Should I have left her au naturel? She is not allowed to wear makeup at the school disco even though lots of her friends do. One of her friends, at age 11, shaves her legs!!! I don't want her to become preoccupied with her looks too early. I am trying not to be sad at her (premature, in my opinion) introduction to a woman's world although her obvious relief at having her 'problem' sorted out makes me feel better.

So that's what she gets from me - eyebrows and worrying. From the OH she gets her stunning singing voice, blond hair and an unnatural gift for using gadgets.

And what about me? Did I get my mother's ability to walk in high-heeled shoes, decorate cakes, sew, knit, cook, do woodwork and an innate sense of style? No - she kept that for herself. I got the very small boobs and the inability to go anywhere, even for a short time, without 3 suitcases stuffed full of clothes to cater for every eventuality and weather condition!

Happy Mother's Day!