Niamh Towey’s big regret? Not realising she had turned into her mother

My biggest regret is waiting until I was 23 to accept the fact that I have turned into my mother.

Growing up, people had hope for me. “You’re just like your dad,” they would say. “Quiet, measured, well-behaved. Nothing like your mother.”

I viewed my mum as a rogue. She was mouthy and scattered, always arriving late to things and laughing too loudly at our school plays. She was clumsy, always dropping plates and burning the spuds.

She was forever shouting and giving out. “Get out of that shower; the ceiling is leaking! Don’t be rubbing snot on the couch. Any more back chat and I’m ringing your dad.”

We usually ended up laughing at her attempts at discipline, and it didn’t take much to get the laugh out of her either – that’s the great thing about my mum.

Even if there was a bucket in the kitchen catching the shower water, or a pot of burned spuds smelling out the house, she was able to laugh about it.

I had always thought she was daft, nothing like my dad or I. No, we were sensible. We arrived on time for things and kept the cool while she flustered around the place burning her fingers on pans and tripping over the dog.

But no, I am my mother’s daughter. I am scattered, have a very loud laugh, a poor sense of direction and my friends call me a loudmouth.

I am glad I’ve finally come to accept that fact, but I regret waiting until now. My mother never holds a grudge, she could put a smile on your face on the darkest of days and she has the eternal spirit of a giddy teenager. I just wish we could both learn to cook a dinner without blackening it.