On March 30 it will be my grand-daughter's second birthday! My "baby girl" is so special to me. I haven't had much opportunity to see her these past few months but she is always on my mind. I am so excited that I will have her visit for Easter Week.

Butterfly Laughter by Katherine Mansfield

Grandmothers Are Mothers Who Are Grand
Grandmothers are mothers who are grand,
Restoring the sense that our most precious things
Are those that do not change much over time.
No love of childhood is more sublime,
Demanding little, giving on demand,
More inclined than most to grant the wings
On which we fly off to enchanted lands.
Though grandmothers must serve as second mothers,
Helping out with young and restless hearts,
Each has all the patience wisdom brings,
Remembering our passions more than others,
Soothing us with old and well-honed arts.

Happy Birthday Kiona Sage Priscilla.....Kokum loves you!

The source of my strength is my mother. All my life I have known her to be strong, in personality and in her physical being. She took care of twelve of her children, three of her grandchildren and her great grandchild. My mother once said to me "I don't know what I would do without children around me". 

When I was growing up in Faust, my Dad would work all the time, usually away from home. My mom would take care of the household and she usually worked at some other job. In Faust I remember that she gutted fish at the local fish plant and cleaned the rooms at the Lakeside Hotel. We used to have turns going with her and helping her clean. My job was to make sure the faucets in the tub and sink were shiny clean.

In order to maintain control of all of us and everything else she had to do, my mother would yell and hit us when she felt we were doing something we shouldn't have. When she was older she said that if she had known any different than yelling and hitting she would have tried something else.

My mother's childhood was hard work and being yelled and hit by her mother. She went to residential school, which was a time of hard work and abuse as well. I didn't learn about any of this until I was an adult. The first time I found out how my Kokumee would hit her children was at her funeral. My Aunties were telling stories about being hit and not taken care of in a good way. My mother wanted them to stop remembering those times.

I also remember my mother telling me that as a child she used to take care of her younger brothers and sister. Her sister Elizabeth used to think that my mother was her mother. Mom said Elizabeth cried lots when my mom left home to live with my dad.


Well, here it is, I love my mother. Even when I was growing up, I knew she loved me, she did so many wonderful everyday things to keep us clothed and fed. She used to either make or adjust clothes for us. I remember this beautiful dress she made me for my sister's graduation. She made it exactly the way I wanted it. She never used a pattern, she measured cloth against us or just "looked" at us and sewed something.


When I was an adult, with my own family, she told me she was proud of me, and she told me she loved me. 


I want to thank my mother for her strength, without it, I wouldn't be the person I am today. I am grateful for the lessons of my life and most grateful for her.


Thank you Creator!