A seasoned mom was what I was asked to be.
It makes sense.
I have raised five children who are now grown; my youngest child is in college.
I am in my mid-fifties; a bit on the other side of middle.

It was a wonderful thing to be asked.
I was to be a seasoned mom at a young mother’s breakfast that was happening at church.
I was simply asked to sit at the table with some of the younger moms.
That would indeed be my pleasure.

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With five children, I cannot even begin to count how many times I have sat on the sidelines.
I sat on soccer fields, field hockey fields, and lacrosse fields.
I sat on T-ball fields, baseball fields, and outdoor tracks.
A sign on the front of me should have read, Professional Spectator.

My husband was even more faithful, volunteering as coach or assistant coach when needed.
At the college level, he went to far more of our children’s games than I did.
I was usually home with the other children, driving them where they needed to be.
Our family rule was one activity each but with five children, we were still quite busy.

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My daughter and I sat down to watch a movie together.
It was a movie I had forgotten about, but one that impacted me when I saw it years ago.
It was the story of Erin Gruwell, the teacher who changed the lives of 150 of her students.
It is a story of integration, opportunities, and unlikely friendships.

Erin Gruwell was a student teacher at Woodrow Wilson High School in Long Beach, California.
One student gave her quite a bit of trouble that year.
When someone drew a caricature of him as an African American man, she related it to history.
She told her students that this was the type of caricature the Nazis used during the Holocaust.

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It’s funny what you remember about your upbringing.
I was taught to always look people in the eye when I talked to them.
I was told to always write thank you notes in a timely fashion.
I was reminded to always use the appropriate title when addressing someone.

That person worked very hard to acquire that title, my mother told me over and over.
If the person was a doctor, I was to address him as such.
If the person was a policeman, I was to address him as, Officer.
Sir, or ma’am was required when I was not sure of the person’s title.

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Do you have a birdie in your house, she asked me with a confused look on her sweet face?
A birdie in my house? I repeated looking as confused as she.
You have a lot of birdhouses, she said pointing.
Which one does the birdie live in? She asked looking around.

Until that moment, I never realized that I do have quite a few birdhouses.
Liking country things the way I do, birdhouses are a whimsical decoration.
Some of the birdhouses were gifts from friends.
Others, I found in the country stores I frequent.

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I thought of the movie, The Lion King all morning.
I thought about the soundtrack when my children sang along.
Hakuna Matata: It means no worries for the rest of your days.
The Circle of Life played as the new lion cub was lifted up for the whole clan to see.

It was the story of Mufasa and his evil brother, Scar.
It was the story of Simba who must learn to cope with the death of his father.
The death of his father shook little Simba to the very core.
The changes in his circumstances made him forget who he was and what he was called to be.

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I glanced over as she was driving.
My youngest daughter was behind the wheel singing along with her music.
Some grocery bags were in the back seat.
We were on the turnpike heading back to her college.

It seems like only yesterday when we took this drive for the first time.
When in reality an entire year has passed.
This time she was driving the car that will stay with her at school.
This time my husband followed about fifteen minutes behind with the minivan.

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I loved to make learning fun for my children.
It was a privilege to teach them to read.
It was delightful to teach them how to write their name.
Learning colors and shapes and how to count was an adventure.

Since I love words so much, I couldn’t wait for them to love words, too.
Reading to them constantly surely helped.
They loved the sound of the words as we got lost in the wonderful stories.
They loved to point to the words they recognized and tell me what they said.

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It was the sound that attracted me.
It was the crunch.
If freshness had a sound then this was it.
I wanted to try this delicious sounding food.

I look back now and smile at the memory.
I can see myself so clearly sitting on our back porch.
At the round glass top table I watched my aunt enjoy her salad.
I heard the sound of the lettuce as she chewed.

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I have a pet peeve.
I dislike grass clippings.
I should not complain because I am not the one cutting the grass.
In fact I have never cut the grass.

My sons have cut the grass.
My older daughters have cut the grass.
In fact I think that as they each approached driving age, riding the lawn tractor was fun.
My youngest daughter is like me; she has absolutely no desire to ride the lawn tractor.

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