*Sometimes life blesses us with unexpected "moms". In my case, it was my Aunt Mina. She was my great aunt, actually, and as my grandma's sister she helped raise my dad and his siblings while my grandma, a single mother to five, worked a handful of jobs to make ends meet.

As the first born of the next generation, I had a teenage mom and a young dad who both worked long hours. They took me to Mina's house when their shifts started, and I grew up surrounded with the sounds of German accents and daily soaps. We watched "The Young and the Restless" and "Sonny & Cher," puttered around the house and went to church. Time at Mina's house was quiet; there was no radio, no yelling, no background noise like there was at home. But there was attention, and cookies, and old, gnarled fingers that taught me to stitch and needlepoint. There were chats about what good Catholics do (and don't do), the importance of prayer and how to vacuum the carpet. There was butterfly chasing, twirls on the sit and spin, and countless trips through the water sprinkler.

Mina never had children of her own, but she was most definitely a mother to many. She led by example, loved with abandon and saw the beauty of ordinary things. She lived modestly, but cultivated a beautiful garden. The backyard had bushes of what we called swazi berries, and she turned those sour little fruits into the sweetest kuchen (our German version of coffee cake; we said 'coo-ga') I can remember. She also had an amazing array of tulips. They grew along the perimeter of her brick house, and exploded with colors so vibrant people would wander over just to take a peek.

She was diligent about watering those bulbs, but it wasn't until I was older and she was gone that my dad filled me in on her secret: poop tea. She'd fill a watering can with water from the hose and a healthy scoop of cow poop, and let that steep overnight. Then she'd water her plants, and they flourished in appreciation. Now that I'm a mom, I appreciate the time I had with Mina even more than I did before.  Tulips have long been my favorite flower, but since Mina's green thumb didn't jump genetic lines and land on me, I celebrate each mother's day by buying a bouquet of my own. They don't last long, but her influence sure did.

Swartzbeeren Kuchen:

Sweet Roll Dough:

Measure 1/2 cup warm water in mixing bowl. Stir in 2 packs of active dry yeast until dissolved. Then stir in 1 1/2 cups lukewarm milk, 2 tsp. salt, 2 eggs, 1/2 cup soft shortening and 5 cups sifted flour. Mix with spoon until smooth. Add enough flour to handle easily; mix with hand. Turn onto lightly floured board, and knead until smooth and elastic (about 5 minutes). Round up in greased bowl, greased side up. Cover with damp cloth and let rise in warm place until doubled (about 1 1/2 hours). Punch down, let rise again until almost double. Divide dough for desired recipes, putting about 1/4 to 1/2 inch thick squares in square or oblong baking pans.

Mix together 1 qt. blackberries, 1 cup sugar and 1/2 cup flour, and spread over dough. Top with 1 cup sugar, 1/2 cup shortening and 1 cup flour mixed together to form a coarse, crumbly mixture. Sprinkle over the berries. Bake until done. Other fruits such as apricots, peaches, apples or cherries may be used in place of blackberries.

*This was originally published as a guest post for Plum District Kansas City. My savvy and thoughtful friend Deb Clem-Buckert set out to make May the month of moms, and gave anyone interested a platform to share memories, say thank you or somehow celebrate the gift of motherhood. 

I have yet to get out to pick up my tulips today, but I will. In the meantime, I'm working off my peanut butter and banana toast breakfast (with strawberries, too, this year) by helping the kids make some new stepping stones for my garden. I'm thinking of all the mothers who I hold in such high regard, and offering prayers of thanks for their influence and example in my life. I think Erin's right, that every day really is Mother's Day. Happy Sunday

The strangest things run through my mind when I'm exercising. Maybe it's simply my way of distracting myself from my own discomfort, or maybe it's those natural endorphins that are starting to flow; whatever it is, my thoughts tend to move from what's most pressing to something more creative.  Yesterday, they went to a favorite movie: Forrest Gump.

As I wogged I thought of the famous like 'run, Forrest, run!' and couldn't help but smile. I thought of the determined and proud tinge in his voice when he said "Now you wouldn't believe me if I told you, but I could run like the wind blows. From that day on, if I was going somewhere, I was running!" And I thought that I hope my kids grow up to be like Forrest. 

I know that sounds bizarre; Forrest was simple in so many ways. He wasn't intelligent, he wasn't savvy and he wasn't creative. But what he lacked in those areas he made up for in tenacity and the ability to achieve (yes, I know he's fictional. Bear with me for a second). 

I hope that when someone gives my three clear direction about their own unique talent, like when Jenny told Forrest to run, they embrace it. I hope that they are blessed with people who not only love them, but speak to them in ways they understand. I hope that they know what love means, and that the object of their affection returns their love in ways big and small. 

I admire Forrest, because when Jenny told him to run he didn't say 'it hurts' or 'I'm tired' or 'I think I'm better than that.' He ran with all he had.

I admire that he accepted Jenny's marriage proposal when it would have been understandable to say 'but you said no before,' or 'you've already hurt me or 'why should I trust you'. He followed his heart. He was true to himself. He didn't care what others thought. 

I admire how he doted on those he loved; his momma, Jenny, his son. I admire the attention he lavished on them without a tinge of embarrassment.  In those ways, I hope that my kids are like him. And if they could invest in a fruit company, I'd be ok with that, too.

Tackling a Mama Kat writing prompt today; one that is heavy on my heart and so fresh, even after almost 42 years, that it brings tears and a funky outlook on life. It's no secret to anyone who knows me or who reads my blog that Mother's Day is tough for me. As  mom, it's wonderful. Love isn't a big enough word to describe how I adore the handmade, unique and chock-full-of-innocent-love gifts that my kiddos spend a week working on. Yummy doesn't adequately describe the peanut butter and banana toast that Erin will 'surprise' me with for breakfast come Sunday morning. And to say that my three are the greatest loves of my life is like saying Carrie Bradshaw has a passing interest in shoes. In that respect, Mother's Day is glorious and perfect.

But as a daughter, it's not quite as lovely. I have a dad who stepped into the "mom" shoes long ago, and I count my blessings everyday for him. But Hallmark and TV commercials remind me a bit too often this time of year that others have Moms with whom they share special moments, past and present.  I don't.

I was feeling sorry for myself and thinking about it just a bit too much, when a wise friend reminded me that God wastes no hurts. She encouraged me to see the positives instead of the negatives. She spoke to me in a language that I understand, and reminded me that it's not just the good that forms us into who we are, but also the tough and sad lessons that we experience that are our most powerful lessons.

So today, I choose to say 'thank you' to that woman who brought me into this world. Without her, these three children who shine love and happiness into the lives of countless people wouldn't be here. Without her, my mothering 'compass' would lack direction. Without her, I doubt I'd see my own kids as the wonderful gifts they are or that I'd feel the fierce need to protect them.

I can't pretend to understand her world, but I can thank her for breathing life into one of my favorite prayers. Attributed to Mother Teresa, it's one that I try to teach my own kids through actions big and small. It's the one I repeat when I feel funky. It's one that I feel instead of just say, and I have her to thank for that.

What else have I learned? That kids take their cues from their parents, good AND bad, whether the parents realize it or not. That kids don't see that Mom is simply having a bad day; instead, they too often think 'she's having a bad day because of me'. That kids carry not only words and feelings but their perspective of a parent's words and actions--formed through an indefinable mix of words, interactions, overheard conversations and  countless other factors--with them not just when they're kids, but when they grow and raise their own.  

I've learned that we can't rewrite our past but we can influence the future. There is the power to turn it around, no matter what point we're at, and go down the path we choose instead of using the map someone else has passed along, if we'll just claim it. We can choose our way, our words, our outlook.

Thank you, Mom. 

    People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered.  Forgive them anyway.

            If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives.  Be kind anyway.

            If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies.  Succeed anyway.

           If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you.  Be honest and sincere anyway.

            What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight.  Create anyway.

            If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous.  Be happy anyway.

            The good you do today, will often be forgotten.  Do good anyway. 

Give the best you have, and it will never be enough.  Give your best anyway.

         In the final analysis, it is between you and God.  It was never between you and them anyway.

(This is no Instagram filter, folks; just good ol' Polaroid)

I do believe I need an intervention.

I've started (yes, again....don't judge) the Couch25K program. I'm hoping that by the time The Color Run lands in Kansas City, I'll be more of a jogger than a wogger (you know...that oh-so-hot combination of waddling and jogging).  I keep trying to push aside those thoughts from long ago that make me dread the ankle pain, shin splints and general discomfort of jogging. I love it in theory, and I believe all those svelte and serotonin-trippin' folks who swear by the practice; I'm just not a believer. Yet.

So I usually rely on my iPhone to keep me company. More specifically, the playlist that's there with the most upbeat songs from my iTunes library. Usually that keeps me going, happily if not sore. Sara and Ingrid and Duffy and Melissa and Joss and Adam and a host of others get me through.

Then I pushed play today. Damn playlist.

We started ok. Not entirely inspiring, but ok. Then, just as I was hitting the point where I wanted to turn around and go home, Cee Lo started. It's one of my favorites, his ubiquitous anthem to thumbing your finger at rejection. But today, Cee Lo turned that digit on me. No sooner than my Couch25K chimed "RUN" did Cee Lo retort 'F&%k You'.

Who am I to argue with Cee Lo, I rationalized. I could just walk this one, right? Wrong. There's no point in getting out there if I don't DO it, I told mself. So I wogged anyway. Until the cycle repeated. I had no choice; I hit 'next' and kept moving.  

Little did I know that Cee Lo is in cahoots with Amy Winehouse. "Rehab" started up and as I counted down the last seconds of my 'walk' cycle and dreaded the 'run', I got lost again in the music. Until I heard "RUN" followed--immediately--by Amy singing 'no, no, no'.

Damn playlist. I do believe it's time for a new one.

As much as I love both Cee Lo and Amy, I certainly don't need any more voices in my head encouraging me to quit. I do that quite well on my own, thank you very much.

Welcome to the April 2012 edition of the One Little Word Blog Hop. If you're new to the hop, please scroll to the bottom of this post for more info and a complete list of participants. If you're going in order, you've clicked through from Jamie's blog, and your next stop is Jenn.

April and I have history. This idea of writing a letter to myself not only now, but to my future self a year from now, isn't one that I look forward to. In reality, I think I write letters to myself all the time, right here on my blog and the through the late night scribbles in my journal. And looking ahead a year has never really been my thing. This year, it's even more daunting because of the big changes the coming year will bring.

I'm choosing to keep my letters private once again, but I did go back and read last year's letter. I have to admit it was refreshing. I sometimes get bogged down in the everyday, and feel like I'm stuck. Seems like my routine 

 doesn't vary much, and usually involves some combination of taking care of kids, working and cleaning with a little bit of time for me or with friends sprinkled in. In the everyday, it can seem like I'm not making much progress, but reading my letter from last year made me rethink that theory. I'm grateful for this exercise that I fought, because it's a great reminder that I'm not as stuck as I sometimes think. 

This next year will be interesting. With Adam moving away to college and Nicholas moving to Jr. High, my word--invest--takes on a very real (and very expensive) prominence in my world. It's causing me to face budgets, work smarter AND harder, and savor these last few months before our little family changes. I can't really pretend that I'm totally ready, because I'm not. But I know that we'll be alright. We always are.

About a week ago I wrote a post about the media's speculation about Ashley Judd's changed appearance and her diligence in taking them to task for their attitude.  I sat on it for several reasons, the strongest of which was that I was unsure of myself. Not unsure of my thoughts, but unsure about what others might think of them.

It's one thing to form opinions about body image, vanity and lack of self-esteem in the relative comfort of my office chair; quite another to put those thoughts out there, open to criticism and analysis by others. I welcome discourse, but not necessarily about a subject so nuanced and sensitive. It's different in person, when we can exchange ideas and explain our poor choice of words, but the disadvantage of blogging is that once it's out there it seems as if it's written in stone, right there in black and white, unflinchingly staunch and unyielding even if there really is more to say.

So it's still sitting in my drafts folder, collecting virtual dust and becoming less relevant by the minute. Perhaps that's the way that it should be; perhaps these thoughts come and go just as they should, content with being typed but not shared.

Then, this past weekend, Erin begged for a haircut. She didn't just want a trim; she wanted the length gone. All of it.

And I flinched.

I wrestled with so many emotions, thinking about how pretty her hair is when it's all combed and fixed and perfect. Thinking about how I have been growing my hair for what feels like forever and it seems to have stopped significantly north of my shoulders. Hearing those antiquated voices that say girls hair is prettier when long; why do I entertain those voices, when I love short hair and admire the women who rock it?

I realized that it isn't about me--it's her hair. Still, I did my best to talk her out of it.

Logistics won, because she hates that her hair tangles and I've grown weary of shushing her when she cries as we coax the knots out every morning and again before bed. I took a seat in the waiting area after I instructed the hairdresser as to what we'd discussed. So when I looked up from my magazine and saw said hairdresser shaving Erin's now bare neck I was one unhappy mama.

When I walked over and saw that she gave her a 'stacked' cut in the back, with the front sides just a tad bit longer, I literally bit my tongue and argued with the woman about what, exactly, 'chin length' means. I recalled the hundreds (ok, maybe half that, but you get the gist) of times my former hair gal tried to talk me into getting a cut similar to what Erin now has, short and spiky in the back, and just a tad longer in the front.

It's a cut that I know wouldn't look good on me (I'm jealous of those it looks great on), so I assumed that it wouldn't look good on my girl. I totally missed her toothy smile and her beaming eyes as she checked out her new self in the mirror while I was busy arguing and mourning the loss of her long locks.

I was letting those stupid voices--the ones that say our beauty comes from a certain haircut, a certain body type, a certain insert-stupid-standard-here--get in the way of seeing how she is breathtakingly beautiful just as she is.

My girl is so incredibly happy with her short cut. She calls it sassy. She says she feels more like herself now, that she loves that she has no knots, and that she can sleep an extra few minutes in the morning. She asked me to paint her fingers and toes, and we made some funky headbands for her to wear. She's been more 'girly' in the past few days than I ever remember before. Because she feels good. She is confident. She thinks--and believes--that she's beautiful.

I know that, sometime far too soon, she'll start to hear the voices too. I don't know that we  can ever stop those, no matter how often we tell our kids that they are beautiful, smart, radiant and loved. I think that we all, at some point, question who we are and if we 'fit'.

My prayer is that, no matter what age, when Erin looks in the mirror she sees this girl that she is today. I pray that her eyes don't cloud over with convention, as mine have, and that she always lets her sass shine .

Welcome to the April Fool's Day edition of the One Little Word Blog Hop. You can scroll down to the bottom of this post for the history of this tradition and to find a list of other participants. I love visiting them each month and seeing how their word is shaping their lives. If you're so inclined, I'd also really appreciate you clicking over and casting a vote for me for Top 25 Single Mom Blogs at Circle of Moms (you can vote once every 24 hours). 

What is the deal with me and March? I never realized it before, but when I look back to years past, March seems to be a dark and transitional time. I wonder if it's because the bright and shiny attitude of New Year's resolutions has died a quick and painful death, or if it's because--usually--we're frozen and sick of winter, or if, for whatever reason, my planets just align that way every year.

This year, though, was different. This year, March brought lightness, warmth and good news. It started with Erin giving a special presentation to her class about her favorite subject: cupcakes. She researched and prepared an entire report (that Nicholas 'edited' and they bound in an old-school report cover) and then practiced standing in front of an audience to tell everyone why she loves cupcakes. Before the big Monday we baked two flavors: cinnamon roll for the kids, french toast with candied bacon for the adults. She gathered her cupcake apron and our goodies, and I joined her in her classroom.

Her teacher is so wonderful this year, and has encouraged her to find her gifts and talents. She set up a camera and recorded as Erin stood in front of her classmates and told them about Candace Nelson, Cupcake Wars and her favorite recipes. We handed out cupcakes and Erin toured the school, handing out extras to favorite teachers. I am always a proud mom, but I was particularly so that day because she beamed as she shared what she loves. 

I've wanted to do a Mama Kat prompt for a really long time. I'd always put it off, though, thinking that I'd carve time out at the end of a work day filled with 'productive' writing. Yes, I hear Dr. Phil's voice in my head asking 'how's that workin' for ya?' because it's painfully obvious that I never seem to 'find' that time.

So, today, I make it.

How fitting that I choose prompt #3: Things Your Child Can Teach You

There's not enough room, really, because I think that when it all shakes out it's pretty clear that they teach me a heck of a lot more than I've taught them. I always tell my kids that they are unique; I remind them that we all have different talents in life, and that while someone else (namely, their sibling) might be really good at something, what matters is that we find what we are good at and celebrate that.

That's been toughest for Erin, I think, who has two razor smart and competitive big brothers to contend with. My heart broke earlier this year at the school spelling bee; she was out in the first round, and we went to the hallway so she could cry with abandon. After her sobs subsided just a bit, she looked at me with those puppy dog eyes and said, so quietly I thought my heart would just split wide open, 'Mommy...am I ever going to win anything?'.

She didn't understand it then, and I doubt she does now, but I tried to share with her that what she is best at is never acknowledged with certificates or rewards. I told her that she's the glue that keeps our little family of 4 strong; that her cupcakes create smiles and her insistence that we eat dinner together--at the table, without TV or phones--keeps us connected. She pacified me, and said 'thank you mommy', but I know she still just wanted a medal.

Fast forward to this month; it's been a big, big month here. For those of you that I haven't bored with my bragging, my oldest was accepted into the KAMS program at Fort Hays State University. It's an awesome accomplishment on his part, and I'm beyond proud. But it's also bittersweet, because even though he should be starting his junior year of high school in August, he'll be moving into a dorm room four hours away. Couch time will be relegated to school breaks and I will no longer get to hear him open the door every day after school and yell, in his newly deep but still playful voice 'Mother...I'm home...you're welcome.' 

When his acceptance call came, my mind immediately went to the family vacations we haven't taken and the big things I haven't taught him. He can't drive and refuses to separate brights from whites, and I'm stressing out over whether or not he's ready to be on his own. I was lost in those obsessive thoughts while making dinner, and I didn't even realize that Erin was setting the table. We'd been remiss  lately, eating dinner in the living room while we watched TV, so I'd stopped asking her to help.

So I was surprised when she used her big girl voice to get my attention, and then said 'if Adam is going to be gone in August, I declare that from now until then we eat dinner at the table every single night. Even when you say dinner's nothing special, mom, we're still going to'. I must have looked at her oddly, because after a brief silence she tacked on a tentative 'Right, mom?'

Right, wise girl. Right.

I'll admit it....it's really pretty cool that someone nominated my blog again this year for the Top 25 Single Mom Blogs at Circle of Moms. I feel like I neglect this place far too much, especially when there are really cool things going on that deserve to be blogged about. BUT, I feel like maybe this is a good time for BacktoAllen. This nomination makes me smile, and I'm so excited to attend my first Bloggy Boot Camp in St. Louis next month. 

I've had quite a few people say that they can't vote for some reason, and some who've asked exactly how to vote. So, because no one should have to work hard to actually throw a vote my way, here's a quick step-by-step tutorial that (hopefully) will help you cast a vote for whichever blog you choose. Thanks for sharing part of your day with me and come back soon!

Step 1: Click through to the Circle of Moms Top 25 Single Moms 2012 Page, which looks like this:

Step 2: Find the BacktoAllen blog (right now I'm on top....woo hoo!!!!....but you might have to scroll down. It looks like this:

Step 3: You can vote once every 24 hours. To do so, click the button that looks like this that's to the right of my picture:

Step 4: Once you've voted, the button will look like this, and you won't be allowed to click it again for 24 hours:

Remember to come back every 24 hours, until April 18, 4 PM EST, to vote for BacktoAllen...please, thank you and you are oh-so-cool for helping me out like this

It's that time again....the One Little Word Blog Hop. For those of you who don't yet know about One Little Word, it's an online class at Big Picture Scrapbooking led by Ali Edwards.  The monthly prompts remind me to keep my word for the year--invest--in my heart, mind and habits throughout the month. 

February's prompt, in my opinion, doesn't really lend itself well to my word. I should have known that when I picked such an odd word, but I have to be honest and say that photography isn't my strong suit anyway. I snap pics like most moms, but they're not artsy. They're not remarkable and they're not anything that anyone is dying to steal to put on Pinterest. BUT they do capture the moments of life that I hope to remember and celebrate.

February was filled with sweet cupcakes and an even sweeter little girl, a joyous boy that flexed his muscle in Mathletics, little reminders to slow down and listen, thoughts that forced me to think about things I didn't want to, and lovely reminders that life really is full of beautiful moments; some obvious, some more subtle. 

I'm ready for March. Ready to scratch some projects off my looming to-do list, open the windows and welcome the breeze, and fly off to places yet unseen. 

Thanks for visiting! Please take some time and check out the other lovely women on the hop. Part of what I love so much about this tradition is being able to see where others are in their experience with their word, and getting a little peek into the lives of others. If you're going in order, you'll want to click through to Nikki's blog, which is always one of my favorite stops. If you're lost, or just want to jump around, the entire participant list is below.  Finally, you can always read past posts from me about my 2011 and 2012 words here.