My maternal grandmother was the youngest of eight children, three boys and five girls. She must have been a bit of a rebel, as the first girl to marry. I remember my great-grandmother as a stern woman who managed to get three daughters to never leave the nest. Those daughters were my aunts Thelma, Lessie, and Mayme.

Aunt Lessie was the most independent, holding the only driver’s license of the three unmarried sisters; she actually preceded her mother in death. Aunt Mayme passed away in March, at ninety-six years old, and Aunt Thelma passed away about five years ago, also at ninety-six.

Although never marrying with families of their own, my aunts were a powerful presence in the lives of their nieces and nephews. They had hearts for children and valuable parenting lessons can be gleaned from their example:

Self-Sacrifice

I can still see the interior of Aunt Lessie’s car, blue seats covered in clear plastic with raised designs, perfect for poking. On summer Sunday afternoons she took my sister, cousin, and I to the kiddie pool at the local public park. Surely a sixty-something woman had other things to do - lazy afternoon naps come to mind - but she toted us to the pool week after week, thereby giving our parents the break. I like to think that she enjoyed those times as much as we did.

Empathy

Aunt Mayme possessed an uncanny ability to empathize with children. Behavior that I find frustrating and annoying was explained with fresh light by this little woman who could see through a child’s eyes. I am guilty of expecting my children to reason with adult logic, but Aunt Mayme could effortlessly recall the mindset of youth.

Patience

Aunt Thelma turned sixty the month before I was born. She had bad knees and no driver’s license, but possessed the patience of a saint. Nieces and nephews sent their children for her to potty train. Endless hours were devoted to playing tic-tac-toe and dominoes with my cousin, sister, and I, sharing her personal tips and strategies.

Aunt Thelma was even less mobile by the time I had children of my own, but they, too, were drawn to her side. My boys shared her love of baseball and the Braves. She sat on the couch and pitched to my sons, who ran bases around the living room. Later, they would curl up on the couch and watch the game with this great-great aunt who knew all the stats and harbored a dislike for Barry Bonds.

I learned from her that kids don’t need expensive toys and trips, they just need your time.

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This picture was taken in the late seventies. From left to right: Aunt Thelma, my grandmother, Aunt Mayme. I don’t have a picture of my Aunt Lessie, who passed away when I was in the second grade.

Mother’s Day has stirred thoughts about the mothers in my life, past and present. My mother passed away 4 years ago in March. I still miss her. In some ways I am very much like her, in others not as much. She was very visual, like I am, and had strong opinions about what constituted “tacky” (or in some cases, “high tacky”!). Although my tastes in color and design are often bolder and more adventurous compared to the more conservative and delicate ones that she preferred, I know I am very much governed by the internal “tacky meter” she passed on to me. I think it’s helped me in my blog design business.

My sister and I always loved this picture of Mother; I don’t know her exact age, but I would say early to mid-20s. She looks so glamorous, doesn’t she?

This picture shows “The Golden Girls” - my Aunt Thelma, Grandmother, and Aunt Mayme. They’ve all passed on, but their imprint on my life will live on as long as I do. I just wish I had written down all of their family recipes!

This is my Aunt Linda, possibly the only person who reads this blog daily (Hi, Aunt Linda!). She is my mother’s sister and a grandmother figure to my children. Her daughter, Laura, is like a sister to me.

Here is my mother-in-law from last Christmas, pictured with my dad. She hasn’t been able to visit for a few months because her house is for sale and she’s spending a lot of time taking care of her parents in Kansas. She is a real sport and tags along to all of our ball games, classes, music lessons, etc. when she’s here.

Last, but not least is my new stepmother, Frankie. My dad’s wedding at the end of March is one of the big events that I’ve been meaning to post here (along with our father/daughter dance). I’m not sure how in the world this happened, but there was a fluorescent lighting filter on my camera lens at the wedding, so all the pictures have a red tint. That pretty much explains why I haven’t posted. I can’t tell a story without pictures, and it will require an extended appointment with Photoshop to doctor all 186 of them from that day.

Frankie is a beautiful lady both inside and out, and we all love hear dearly. It is sweet to see how excited my kids are to have her as their new grandmother. She makes my daddy happy, which means a lot to me.

Speaking of weddings, my sister is getting married IN TWO WEEKS! I am so incredibly happy for her and Steve. This is just after she caught the bouquet at Daddy and Frankie’s wedding. I am taking pictures at the wedding so feel free to leave me links to any great wedding photography sites or blogs. I need inspiration and ideas!

My Mother’s Day was extra special today. I saw all of my children, including my oldest who no longer lives at home. Here am I with my 2 oldest boys. Handsome aren’t they?

This was my first Mother’s Day gift, a day early during a nature hike. We were told that these are rare azaleas native to our area. They made a sweet bouquet from a sweet little girl (who complained to me this week when she didn’t see any pictures of herself on the blog).

This was a special note I found waiting for me in the dirt yesterday. I was last in our party at the end of our walk, lagging behind taking pictures, if you can imagine that. Can you read it?

Visit my photoblog for a picture of my youngest sweetheart from yesterday.

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!

My 11-year-old daughter went through our old photo albums looking for a picture for the Mother’s Day Photo Contest at 5 Minutes for Mom. She selected several, but this one really brought back a host of memories for me. After 3 sons, I had given up hope of having a daughter. What a fun time it was for our family when my sister and I gave birth to baby girls 4 months apart! In this picture my sister’s daughter is almost 10 months old and my daughter is 5 months old.

I missed the date on the contest, but I thought I would put up this photo in honor of Mother’s Day anyway.

This photo confirms something for me: my blond hair got darker for a while, and now it’s gotten lighter again. Look at those roots!

I have been quoted as saying, “Potty-training is an effective method of birth control.” The end product is a beautiful thing, just not the mishaps along the way. Lily, my youngest, began this adventure last weekend.

I have three primary rules when I start to potty-train a child, all of which were broken:

1. Start on a Monday, so that we have lots of practice before going to church.
2. Make sure everyone else is out of the house.
3. I’ve obviously already forgotten my third rule, but I know that I broke it.

I finally realized that Lily would be ten if we kept waiting for a Monday when I could get everyone out of the house. I have used the Toilet Training in Less Than a Day method will all of my kids, so we don’t even talk about it before the big day.

Altogether we’ve had a very successful week, except for one thing: #2. It would not be inaccurate to say that Lily did not even attempt to make it to the potty, and I would much rather clean a dirty diaper than a dirty pair of training pants. Yuck.

Yesterday I decided that we really needed to talk about it, fearful of taking her to church in “big girl pants” until she’d mastered this vital skill. We had lots of false alarms, but eventually - even getting up out of bed - we had success! WOO HOO! Miss Lily attended church for the first time without a diaper. She did have to change clothes, but that was because she went outside and sat in a puddle, which of course is another story…

My name is the great irony of my life. Don’t get me wrong - I love the dawn; it’s a beautiful and magical time of day (especially if you’ve got a camera in your hand). It’s just that I’m a night owl by nature and mornings don’t come easy for me. My sixteen-year-old son runs cross country, which currently forces me out of bed before 6 a.m. twice a week. I really love walking outdoors in the still of early morning, although I can’t seem to manage it those other five days of my own free will.

Saturday morning we left before sunrise for a cross country meet that was a good distance from home. At 8:30 we joined the runners and a mix of spectators to walk the mile-and-a-half course before the race began. Toward the end, my four-year-old daughter and I lagged behind the pack as we searched for a never-found stick in the bottom of her sandal, and that is when the early morning light began to work its magic and the camera came off of my shoulder.

Old stone chimneys fascinate me, standing in silent tribute of homes and times that are no more. I wonder what stories they would tell if they could speak. As my daughter and I walked, we made our way towards a pair of them, facing each other on the edge of the course. Her questions echoed my own:

What happened to the house?

Who lived here?

This fence ran beside the house and made me think of one of my favorite Robert Frost poems, “Mending Wall”:

Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall…

I was blessed with very sweet one-on-one time with my daughter, some picture-perfect moments, and ideal weather. My son shaved 30 seconds off of his best race time, so the day was quite successful in that regard, too.

My mother was a wise woman with some great sayings, one of which was, “No one person is important enough to make everyone around them miserable.” Today, one of my kids thought he was that one person.

We had a lovely day today, the kind that make fond family memories: driving to a mountain resort town; bringing our own charcoal and hot dogs and having a cookout at a riverside park, complete with fresh garden tomatoes and Krispy Kreme doughnuts(!); taking a lazy 2 1/2 hour inner tube ride down the river; eating pizza at an outdoor, riverside cafe.

Waiting for the pizza to arrive is when things started getting a little uneasy. The troops were tired, restless, and hungry, especially Lily who became vocal. My teenage son started copping an attitude about the rest of the family, especially us, the parents. This dragged on until it developed into a full-scale, serious parent/child discussion outside the restaurant after supper; eventually we head for the car, frustrated and angry, our teenage son in the lead.

At this point the other kids realize we’re leaving and become upset, and it occurs to me: if we leave, we are allowing our son to be that “one person,” the one who thinks he’s important enough to make everyone around him miserable. In Proverbs 22:15 we are told that “foolishness is bound in the heart of a child.” Allowing our son this level of influence - dampening our day by ending it prematurely and on a sour note - just seemed like foolish parenting (something my new friend Marybeth would have called parenting out of fear). We informed the kids we were staying, turned around (without teenage son who stayed and sat by the river), and spent about another hour and a half roaming through little shops, taking silly family photos, and eating funnel cake.

Did our son cool his head? I don’t know; he was asleep on the riverbank when we returned, and he went straight to bed when we got home. Moral of the story? Parenting isn’t always a popular job. We’re not supposed to be our child’s best friend or take his viewpoint when it’s wrong. If our position can be backed with scriptural authority (it could and was), it’s our duty to explain it thoroughly and then stick to it. Don’t allow your children to believe they’re that “one person.” I’m so glad we turned around and didn’t deny the other kids and ourselves the rest of the day we’d planned.

My 5-year-old son has a stuffed animal, Puppy Dog, which is his most indispensable treasure. Puppy Dog lost an ear a few weeks ago, and then today his head was pulled halfway off of his neck, requiring a call to the paramedics, a.k.a. me and my sewing basket. Lily (my youngest daughter) sat in the floor at my feet, rummaging through the buttons and whatnots while I reinforced Puppy’s neck and reattached his ear.

I probably had said, “I love you, Lily” at some point - I’m sure I say it all the time - but she surprised me by saying, “I love you (pronounced “do”), Mommy” in her precious little voice. I know of no other words which hold such power to melt a mother’s heart, especially when spoken for the first time. My hands stopped as I looked at her and asked, “Can I have your kiss?” to which she replied, “‘kay,” stood, and lifted her face to plant a sweet, wet baby kiss on my lips. She continued saying, “I love you, Mommy,” as we worked (each in our own fashion).

The pay isn’t much, but the perks of motherhood are priceless.

For your enjoyment, Lily and the Drama Queen: