For better or worse, 'I'm becoming my mom!'

Sometimes it's when she gives her child a directive, or some direction. Other times it's when a particular movement becomes habit. Or it may be when breaking the mold turns out to fit the mold perfectly.

Whatever the happenstance, most women eventually encounter an "I'm becoming my mother!" moment. The realization might be preceded by "Oh, no!" or followed by "Oh, OK" (or even "Oh, cool").

For some, like Jean Peterson, 61, of Shoreview, it's a particular situation: "Ironing something that nearly no one irons anymore (pillowcases, for example). When asked why I do it, I say: 'Oh, I'll just give them a lick and a promise.' That's what my mother said when ironing stuff like that, including my father's boxer shorts."

For others, like Angela Kallsen, 40, of St. Paul, it's more pervasive. "I wish I had an 'aha' story. But unfortunately my moment is EVERY. SINGLE. FRIGGIN'. DAY."

It was no surprise, then, that when we asked readers to share their "I'm becoming my mother" moments, we got a wide range of responses. Some of our favorites:

Jen Antila, 39, Minneapolis: "My mom and dad split up, oh, 24 years ago. Afterward, she blossomed and reconnected with her true, core personality: a fun, spunky, live-outside-of-the-rules sort of a gal.

"Now that I'm turning 40 (is there a 20-year cycle-of-life thing? First 20 years growing up, second 20 years faking it, third 20 years getting back to 'real'?), I've left corporate life to fully embrace that fun side of me that was lost while I was 'faking it' at work for so many years. I'm establishing my own business and being spunky and living outside of the rules."

Alisa Johnson, 29, Mayer: "When I was younger, my mother would always nag me to do something like my homework, clean my room, brush my teeth. Now I have started nagging my mother. Two separate times I have pushed her to see a dermatologist because of skin issues. "When I was younger she would nag me because she loved me, and now I nag her because I love her."

Amber C. Senn, 40, Wayzata: "My mother became a feminist when she turned 30 and I was about to enter my awkward teenage years. She became prone to pontificating about the power of menstruation to me and my girlfriends on the agonizing drive to the roller-skating rink. I thought she had lost her mind, but the truth is that she had just discovered it.

"For many years I resisted the thought that I was anything like my mother, despite my persistent actions to the contrary. Our shared idiosyncrasies have always been obvious: wild gesticulations, commanding voices, slightly crooked smiles, insatiable thirst for wine. I was 35 when I fully accepted that I was very much like my mother: I had grown into an exceptionally candid woman, strong and confident, and most certainly a feminist."

Per Lindholm, 57, River Falls, Wis.: "Before Mom passed on, she would get up in the night and roust around, to the consternation of my baby sister. Now, when I come to Minneapolis on business, I stay with Baby Sis. And, wouldn't you know it, I just realized that I do the same rousting around in the middle of the night."

Mary Vander Leest, 53, Minneapolis: "My mother would cut down the boxes of cereal, crackers, etc., as she'd go through the product, so sometimes toward the end of the Cheerios, the box was only about 2 inches tall. One day, when a loaf of bread I'd purchased was down to the last four slices, I caught myself cutting off the excess bag, leaving only a little nub of plastic next to the twist tie."

Pilar Gerasimo, 43, Menomonie, Wis.: "I grew up on a commune my mom started with her best friend in 1970. We grew our own organic food, built our own houses out of recycled materials, had no TV, embraced a low-consumption, low-impact lifestyle -- the whole shebang. Then I went away to college and tried to eat, drink and do everything the 'normal' kids did. I gained weight and felt miserable and ended up having to figure a whole bunch of stuff out for myself. But I ended up realizing my mom was right about just about everything. Oh, and I ended up moving back to the farm a few years ago -- it's now a little community my husband and I share with my mom and her husband, my sisters and their families (we all have separate houses on the same 300-acre farm)."

Bill Ward • 612-673-7643

Sarah Moeller, 37, Minneapolis: "Growing up, we didn't have much, and my mom was incredibly creative in her ways to pinch pennies, including filing coupons not only by item, but by brand and by path through the grocery store.

"We had a huge garden that I used to hate weeding. We cooked at home, making everything from scratch, when I wanted Cheetos and Oreos and Capri Sun. I hated it.

"Now I am planting a garden and looking forward to weeding onions, herbs and carrots as part of my quiet time. I know how to roast a chicken and enjoy the house smelling of a home-cooked meal. I cut coupons and throw out my friends' processed food and replace it with homemade cookies."

Juamil Lezer, 26, Buffalo, Minn.: "Whenever there was a birthday party or family event, my mother would always dress me in the nicest outfits. This wasn't a problem until my cousins or other children wanted me to play. As I went to jump out of my chair with excitement, my mom would give me 'the look,' followed by 'Sorry, honey, just sit here with Mommy. We don't want to get your clothes dirty.'

"After I had my first child, my son Gavin, he would always need to be smelling the best, dressed as if we were going to church even to go to Target. We were at a friend's birthday party, and as all the children were playing. I looked over and sitting next to me was my 3-year-old son. He was very nicely dressed, and the reason he was sitting next to me was because I wanted to avoid him getting dirty."