The day started early—well, early for me. 6 am and I’m up dressing the kids, running around frantically trying to cover all the bases of preparation. In the car by 7:20 am. We’re on our way to paricipate in the Komen Race for the Cure—which in Pittsburgh happens every Mother’s Day. It’s an emotional day. The crowd of 40,000 plus people are quite a powerful witness to honoring and celebrating courageous women who’ve battled breast cancer. I’ve showed up every year since my Aunt Beth succumbed to the disease in 2003. She was such a positive influence and role model for me. She was ever graceful, patient and loving. She was the kind of person who would never utter a harsh word, and who always brought life to any party. She was such a life-force, yet had an “enough about me, tell me about you” way with people. This was a woman who’s son referred to her as his best friend—not because she spoiled him, but because from the time he was a toddler she would squat down, look him in the eye, and talk with him; she always treated him fairly; she spent time reading with him and playing baseball; she was his support; most of all, she commanded an underlying respect from him. She was the ideal balance of lighthearted fun and calm authority. I’ll tell you: it’s awe inspiring. And so now, my husband, my son and my daughter (her namesake) join me on a 5K celebration of Beth’s life. Not a bad way to begin the day.

When we got home the children passed out from all the excitement of the morning. After getting them into their beds for a much needed nap, I spent the afternoon with my husband attending to some much needed gardening in our flower bed. Sometimes it’s just great to feel my fingers running through the soil, and I had been looking forward to this all week. It reminded me of all of the Memorial Day weekends I spent as a kid learning to garden in my mother’s flower bed. I remember her showing me how to sift and prepare the soil with fertilizer (she called it 5-10-15-20. I guess that joke’s only funny if you’re familiar with soil nutrient-boosters.) My mom would teach me how to map out where all the different flowers would be planted, how to dig a hole, water it, place the flower, cover the root mass, pack it down a bit. She took the time to teach me that preparation was half the process and that a colorful, vibrant garden was the pay-off. I wonder if she realizes that so many moments like these from my childhood have shaped who I am as an adult. And, I wonder if she ever guessed that 30 years later I’d choose to call upon these memories and methods as my way of getting in a little Mother’s day “me time.” (This year was the bonus, too, because two days prior mom helped me select this season’s mix of annuals and perennials.)

As if this wasn’t a full enough day, the whole family then loaded back up in the car for dinner at my Aunt/godmother’s house for dinner with our extended family. This kind of event guarantees a few things. One: the meal will be fabulous. Two: I get to spent time with my godmother who has taught me that self-discipline is the key to finding focus and that hard work and determination lead to the acheivement of dreams. Three: I will get into a conversation with my grandmother about how amazing she is. She’s a hard sell. I’ve been having this conversation with her for decades, but she just can’t see how pivotal her role has been in molding four children, four unbelievably brilliant grandkids*, and four adorable great-grandkids. Although the great-grandkids do adore her, it’s us, the grandkids, who truly appreciate her—even more than her own children, I think. It’s a special bond I’ve been priviledged to have with her. We chat like girlfriends as she tells me stories of her youth and she teaches me how to be patient, compassionate, and to stand-up for what I believe in. I still haven’t figured out what it is I do for her, but I suspect it has something to do with all the times we’ve curled-up together on her bed to watch an old B&W movie and devour a scoop or three of ice cream.

This year’s Mother’s Day is drawing to a close now. It’s surprising how much I’ve packed into a 24 hour period of time. I am thankful that today has turned out to be one for the books. I certainly can’t believe that I’ve got two wonderful children who make me laugh and challenge me in the ways they do. I think of how they seem to learn and mature at the speed of light. I think about all the things I want to teach them—things that have been passed down to me from all of the mother-figures in my life. I think about how I have become a completely different (and better) person during these first couple of years in their lives. And, I think of all the things that I have yet to learn from them.

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