If I had to label my mom as a private or a public person, I would definitely brand her as the queen of privacy. She's pretty low-key, low-maintenance, and I think (hope)I may have inherited a little bit of that from her. So while she's not the type to air dirty laundry or even get involved in someone else's, she does, after 44 years of mothering 3 kids and grandmothering 10 grandkids, deserve a little public praise; and while she doesn't have Facebook or even know how to navigate the internet to FIND this blog, I'm going to share, not air, all the praiseworthy qualities the brothers and I, and anyone else who knows her, know best.

The one thing everyone knows about my mom is that the lady can COOK! The old saying is that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. I don't cook, so I had to lure my man through my mother's cooking. And . . . it worked! Billy has a hefty list of favorites my mom has made famous. When I had my babies and she made plans to come out and "help," her to-do list always began with a grocery list for a trip to Kroger and a calendar of which meal she would cook for which day. Once that was taken care of she could move on to holding, rocking, and spoiling the newest Kirk boy.

Mimi can take the most mundane piece of meat, most everyday meal and make it something special. She cooks the way her mother cooked, and the way her mother cooked before her. I'm sure the recipes contain some ingredients that the FDA and AMA warn against these days, but I figure when one is in Mississippi or when Mississippi comes to visit, it's rude to ask questions and best to assume that the delicious ingredient in all of her dishes is simply love, not lard.

My mom has great taste, too, and not just in food. She loves her music and always has it playing when she's in the house. There's never been a time when the morning didn't start with the radio playing, and I remember eating breakfast every morning before school with the local DJ spinning songs, issuing traffic updates, and warning about the weather. Unfortunately, for as much as Mimi loves music, according to her, she wasn't blessed with a singing voice. Instead, she hums. No matter the song or the company in the car (i.e. my friends), she kept the beat and hummed along, turning it up when the kids in the back got too loud. Uncle Justin and I have had many good laughs imitating her and her favorite artists. I can't prove it, but that MIGHT be what led to Justin's and my performance of "You're the One that I want" that truly puts John Travolta and Olivia Newton John to shame.

The forty-three years I have been blessed to be her daughter have all given me great examples of how to be the perfect lady. Mimi taught Sunday School as early on as I can remember, carrying 80's teenagers to the local McDonald's and then pulling out her SS teaching materials as they breakfasted on biscuits and McMuffins. She led the snack suppers on Sunday nights, and I vividly remember racing from the choir room to the family life center with the other children's choir members to see what Mrs. Sue had put together for supper before we headed to MYF.

My mom is tough and able and capable, proud to mow her own lawn, sweep the leaves, and handle as much of the household chores as possible. She is also funny, amiable, and gentle, as evidenced my the many, many hours she's logged in her swing or her rocking chair, a baby wrapped in a blanket, folded over her shoulder. She nails the Sunday church hat look and made handling three kids on a Sunday morning look easy breezy. She could yell at the umpire for a bad call that lost us the game, and then turn on the biggest smile as she passed out post-game snacks to disappointed shortstops and pitchers.

Mimi did the impossible when becoming a widow at the age of 44--she picked her head up, threw her shoulders back, and managed to continue doing the whole parenting thing solo, insuring that all three kids finished college and moved into adulthood with a gentle knee in our backs.

She amazes me every time I get to talk to her. She's funny, clever, and has her fingertip on the pulse of the entertainment world-- she still loves good movies, handsome tennis players, and, of course, music.

I love that even though I am almost 43 years old, she still finds situations that she handles delicately with me, as if she were discussing information with a child. I recall one phone conversation we had that lasted almost 45 minutes. As we were closing it down and saying our good-byes, she threw in the now famous phrase: "oh, and I'm having some surgery tomorrow. I'll call you later this week and let you know how it went." As if this would sufficiently close out our conversation.

I'll be celebrating Mother's Day with my four boys tomorrow in Georgia, and she'll be celebrating in Mississippi with the brothers. Her porch will be swept and the yard will be mowed. She'll be sitting in her swing underneath the big tree in the front yard when they pull into the driveway. I know they'll be raving about her cooking, and I hope someone mentions her humming abilities.

Most of all, I hope one day those four Kirk boys will gather on a Sunday in May, and laugh and giggle and point and praise all the good things they remember about me. Maybe they will laugh at how I had to go for a run every Saturday morning, addicted they like to call it. Maybe they will remember all the lunches I packed with the things that they didn't like but I swore they did. Maybe they will laugh at my choice of reality shows that I record and watch when everyone is asleep. Who knows?

But I hope that I am building the same around-the-table, laugh-until-you-cry, only-my-siblings-will-get moments that have made my privacy-loving Mother worthy of the most public praise.


Happy Mother's Day, Mimi!