My siblings are lucky, you might say,
Since I’m the first of three;
For more Mom could have said, “No way!”
But she didn’t give up after me.
She was used to babies as oldest of six,
But I broke many of the rules;
With me Mom was often in a fix,
At home, but not at school.
I was bossy before I had a brother,
I practiced on Mom and Dad.
My tantrums were surely a bother
But they never labeled me as bad.
I don’t remember my momma yelling,
She could, though, raise one eyebrow.
How many eyebrow scoldings? No telling.
(I can’t do that, even now).
I heard often I’d pay for my raising,
From Dad, but not from Mother.
My mom’s serenity I’m always praising;
She wouldn’t wish that on another.
Mother’s Day is almost here,
She left us twice, you know;
We miss her daily, year after year,
And mourn what she missed. We love her so.
Evelyn Bizzell Pearson (1930 – 2008)