I celebrated Mother’s Day this weekend (a week late, I know) with my two special moms.
No, I don’t have two birth mothers, or a stepmother or even a mother-in-law. But I have an aunt who deserves just as much credit for raising me as my own amazing mom does.
You see, I learned that women don’t have to give birth to a child to be a mother. My aunt Rose and her husband couldn’t have kids of their own, but they raised a small army of children all the same.
She baby-sat more of my cousins than I can even keep track of anymore. Her house was always filled with the sounds of pattering feet and tiny, kid giggles.
Her home was the place where all the kids wanted to go because she made every day an adventure. She’d turn her spare bedroom into a giant cover fort and help us set up lemonade stands in the dead of summer. Some days she’d walk a mile with us to get us ice cream or rent our favorite movies. She’d set off small fireworks on the Fourth of July for us to enjoy. She’d take us sledding after a big snow.
Other days she’d make sure we all made it to our swim lessons with our bathing suits on and our long hair pulled back out of our eyes. And she was always there to help us finish our last-minute 4-H projects, especially the ones that involved baking.
My super aunt fixed the great bread fiasco of 2002.
I was in eighth grade, and I had to bake a loaf of homemade yeast bread for my foods project. My mom knew she couldn’t help me with that one so we drove to Rose’s house for help.