Mothers

I'm mother to two. Daughter to one. Daughter-in-law to one. Granddaughter to two.

Motherhood is one tough job. It's a job full of love and lots of hard work. Your heart can get torn up and then put back together again. Then torn up again, back together again. It's a viscious cycle.

I suppose motherhood began for me when I was pregnant with Ross. As soon as you see that little baby on a sonogram or feel its body moving around in yours, yep, you know your life is changed forever because you've become a mom.

Being a mom of boys is hard. Different than the difficulties of being a mom to moody girls. Being a mom of boys takes your tender girl heart and places it with those rough and rowdy boys. That causes it to get tossed around quite a bit. And sometimes it gets hurt and you think it's just going to break. And sometimes it becomes so full of love and pride and joy that you feel it just might burst. That's the cycle I was talking about earlier.

I come from a mom who was born and raised in a little town in South Georgia. She grew up on a farm. My MaMa Kimball had four kids, but my mom was her only daughter.

MaMa Kimball was a hard, hard worker. She could work in the field, cook what she brought in from the field, and she did it without complaint. She had a kitchen not even the size of my bathroom, but the food that came out of that kitchen would put to shame any "country cooking" restaurant I've ever been to. She was an excellent seamstress. She sewed most of my mom's clothes. She even held a job outside the home for a little while. When Sunday morning came, my MaMa went to church. No questions asked. She could put on a dress, put on her lipstick and she'd be sitting in a pew at Rosemary Baptist Church in Metter, Georgia. Then after church, they'd sit down and have Sunday dinner, which she would have started before she left for church. She'd serve everyone else before she sat down herself to eat. She could garden and work in the yard as hard as any man could. She always had the prettiest flowers and took a lot of pride in her yard. She died in October of 2003. I miss her. I would love for her to see my life now.

MaMa Howell was one of the strongest, most determined women I've ever known. She raised six kids. One of which was my dad. I know that she prayed over her kids. She had to have, otherwise I doubt my dad would've made it out of his teens. She was an amazing cook, and she truly loved cooking for her family. She'd work in the kitchen, get the food all served, and then she'd go sit on her front porch in her rocking chair and eat Cheetos. She was a devout christian. And there were probably only a handful of Sundays that she wasn't sitting in a pew at St. John Baptist Church every time church was held. She was there the day Crystal and I were saved. My MaMa Howell never got to see all of my dad's grandchildren. She was only able to see Ross. She died in September of 1988. It was a day that she was going to have my mom, me and Ross over for lunch. I miss her, but I KNOW that she's my dad's guardian angel. In some of his encounters with death, he's mentioned seeing her. I know that she's in heaven waiting for all of us. She will probably make some of her yummy fried pies for us when we get there.

My mom is THE strongest woman I've ever known. She raised the three of us girls and taught us how to be who and what we are today. She was stern with disciplining us. But she loved us, and it was evidenced in lots of ways. She sewed lots of our dresses. She took us to church on Sunday mornings. She fed us good, home-cooked meals. Lots of days, she made me tuna sandwiches and sat me down to watch Betwitched when I came home from kindergarten. She gave me guidance and comfort when my heart was broken by a teenage boyfriend and I thought I'd die before my heart would heal. She knows the Bible inside and outside. She is the epitome of dedication. When my mom does something, she does it with all of her heart. I'm blessed that my mom is still here, and I'll see her later today. I'll give her a card and some flowers. She'll say I shouldn't have bought her anything. She's also humble.

And then there's me. I'm mom to Ross and Cameron. I'd have to say that I've been a pretty good mom so far. They won't remember me for my cooking or my sewing or my gardening or for my mild temper and endless patience. I hope they'll remember me for taking them on picnics right in our yard. For reading them books, and playing games. For playing dinosaurs or Matchbox cars with them. For taking them and picking them up from school each day. Helping with homework and even classwork. I especially hope they'll remember me for how much I love them.

I thank God for my grandmothers, for my mom, for my mother-in-law and for my sons.

My bridal shower 1988. Left to right me and my MaMa Howell. Me and Jean, the best mother-in-law ever. Bottom picture is me and my mommy and my MaMa Kimball.