My Mom the Matchmaker :: Personal Narrative Profile

My mommy the Matchmaker   I was walking around Fairfield Highs Arts and Crafts line of battle odd workforcet weekend when I saw a mirror with that reflection engrave around the edge. I didnt know whether to buy it for my start or myself. I dont think many 17-year-old girls see a similarity amid themselves and their mothers. That seems to enter much later in life, if at all. But wherefore again, nearly 17-year-old girls dont have a mother like mine. . .   My mother make a list of colleges she wanted me to consider based on the ratio of men to women Connecticut College was at the top. . . 600 male cadets right across the street. My mother is a professional change coursemaker and my brother and I are her biggest challenges.   other tertiary grade girls had arts and crafts parties, or pizza and video sleepovers. . . I had a boy/girl silver disco nighttime link in my finished basement. mammary gland removed all the furniture, strung up vacuous lights, pre-r ecorded all the music, and insisted that all the tercet grade boys arrive in ties and jackets. Their mothers express they would never come. Well, every one of them showed up, all decked out, to my mothers delight. My party was the well-disposed publication of third grade. . . we still watch the video today   Mom plainly loves romance, what else can I say? She made her depression match when she was a freshman in college, and they unspoilt celebrated their 27th anniversary. She in like manner unknowingly fixed up my dads gay roommate with her lesbian second first cousin . . .they actually dated for months out front breaking the news to to each one other, and therefore to my mom. She even arranged prom dates for four seniors two geezerhood before the prom, and considered starting a venture called Prom Partners. Not at my laid-back schoolhouse, I warned her.   Back in seventh grade, when everyone was in the thick of their first romance, Mom would always voluntee r to drive the carpools home from school dances or the movies. If she saw a new couple sitting in the third seat in her rearview mirror and she thought, given a shortsighted senseless time, that magical first kiss might take place, she would just arrest driving around the block to give romance a chance. needless to say, all of my friends loved her.My Mom the Matchmaker Personal Narrative visibility My Mom the Matchmaker   I was walking around Fairfield Highs Arts and Crafts show last weekend when I saw a mirror with that saying engraved around the edge. I didnt know whether to buy it for my mother or myself. I dont think many 17-year-old girls see a similarity between themselves and their mothers. That seems to come much later in life, if at all. But then again, most 17-year-old girls dont have a mother like mine. . .   My mother made a list of colleges she wanted me to consider based on the ratio of men to women Connecticut College was at the top. . . 600 male cadet s right across the street. My mother is a professional matchmaker and my brother and I are her biggest challenges.   Other third grade girls had arts and crafts parties, or pizza and video sleepovers. . . I had a boy/girl silver disco nighttime affair in my finished basement. Mom removed all the furniture, strung up white lights, pre-recorded all the music, and insisted that all the third grade boys arrive in ties and jackets. Their mothers said they would never come. Well, every one of them showed up, all decked out, to my mothers delight. My party was the social event of third grade. . . we still watch the video today   Mom just loves romance, what else can I say? She made her first match when she was a freshman in college, and they just celebrated their 27th anniversary. She also unknowingly fixed up my dads gay roommate with her lesbian 2nd cousin . . .they actually dated for months before breaking the news to each other, and then to my mom. She even arranged prom date s for four seniors two days before the prom, and considered starting a venture called Prom Partners. Not at my high school, I warned her.   Back in seventh grade, when everyone was in the midst of their first romance, Mom would always volunteer to drive the carpools home from school dances or the movies. If she saw a new couple sitting in the third seat in her rearview mirror and she thought, given a little extra time, that magical first kiss might take place, she would just keep driving around the block to give romance a chance. Needless to say, all of my friends loved her.