When my brother Richard was 22 months old, I was born.
When I was 2, John was born.
When I was 4, Robin was born.
When I was 7, Peggy was born.
When I was 11, Scott and Heidi were born.
When I was 13, Christopher was born.
It was a great way to grow up.
I still have this picture in my mind....
I could hardly wait to see my Mom again after a long day at school. And there she was surrounded by
toddlers and toys, with one leg draped over the back of the couch eating her candy bar while reading
her Good Housekeeping magazine.
She would see me, look up, and smile. She'd put down her magazine, but not her candy bar, and just
listen to me go on and on about my day at school. I had to get every detail out. And she listened like
what I had to say was the best thing ever.
I grew up with heaven in my home. If I could tell her one thing right now, that would be it.
PS My Mom did NOT like Mother's Day. I don't even know what to say to that. She just didn't.
She was continually telling us the virtues of other Moms we knew like she didn't measure up to them.
She didn't read to us, or sing to us. She didn't decorate our birthday cakes or make our clothes.
But she was the kindest woman I ever knew. And we got to see examples of that on a daily basis as
she not only took care of all of us, the neighbors, her friends, and anyone else along the way. If
someone was hurting or had a need, and she knew about it, she was there.
She never even remotely pretended to be perfect.
Here is an excerpt from a lesson she gave in Relief Society on raising children:
She was exactly the Mom I needed! What angel she was.