My Moma's done alot of things.
She's been there, done that.
And she's mostly done it for us, her family...
She carried six of us in her womb.
That's me up there. In her womb, safe and sound and warm.
She told us Santa wasn't real.
That's me, telling Moma's cousin he was a fake.
And that's Moma's hand coming forward to yank me away before the rest of the kids started crying.
She spanked us when we were bad.
For instance, when I gave my cousin Timmy a black eye because he was sitting in the chair I wanted,
I got spanked.
Notice the black eye? Notice my unrepentant face?
She took us to Granny Walston's, and let us jump on the bed.
She dressed us up, and took us to church every Sunday.
Without fail. No matter what. Faithful is the word.
She fed us peanut butter and jellys.
That's my little sister, Abby, having a go at feeding herself for the first time.
She bathed us. Sometimes in the sink...
That's my little brother, Jacky. He was so cute.
She taught us the importance of having someone play with your hair.
Having your hair played with can make a bad day turn good, real quick.
Me and my cousin, Marty. He liked playing with my hair, so long as I played with his too.
She had her first baby, my big sister Shelly, when she was eighteen.
She's hot rolled her hair every single morning for as long as I can remember.
Sometimes she would do mine too, for church.
I loved her for it.
She dressed us in tacky clothes and tacky hairdo's, and called us beautiful.
I'm the fat baby, Karen's in pink, Shelly's the one in Princess Leia braids, and Jay's the cowboy.
Shelly was pretty embarrassed by her hairdo. The photographer was a really cute guy so...
It was a painful moment in her childhood.
She married into the Wood family.
A big, big, big deal.
Here we have four generations of Wood guys:
Jacky (wasn't he so cute???), Dad, Papa, and Papa Jack.
She had her picture taken at Olan Mills when she was sixteen.
And was beautiful.
This picture is why I'm happy when people say I'm the spittin' image of Moma.
She wore cat eye glasses once upon a time.
She accidentally dyed her hair purple when she was in 10th grade.
She still looked this good in her thirties, after having six kids.
She took this cute pic of Jack helping Dad out.
She always smiled.
She got married when she was sixteen, and her veil caught fire as she walked down the aisle.
She didn't panic or anything.
She nursed all of us until we were fat and healthy.
Shelly's nursing her itty bitty baby too:)
She broke up this fight between Shelly and Jason.
She washed our clothes.
She let us take flight and fix our own hair.
As evidenced by Karen and Shelly's hair in this picture.
And she wore tacky hats.
She helped us blow out our birthday candles, and always made really cool cakes.
... Jason's 1st and Shelly's 2nd birthday party.
She's had grandkids.
Twelve of them so far.
She made our beds... until we learned how.
She cooked our food... still does when she comes to visit.
She wiped our tears away.
She blew our noses.
She put band aids on our owies.
She taught us, by example, that God was most important.
She calls just to talk.
She adapted to every new home, every new state, every new church, every new set of friends... everytime she and Dad moved to a new place.
She taught us right from wrong. And to man up, and take responsibility for our wrong doings.
She made us quilts. I have her crazy quilt hanging over the chair in my living room.
She held us while we puked.
She kissed us goodnight.
She pulled us outta bed every morning and sang, Rise and Shine Lazy, Sleepyheads. Which we hated, by the way.
She loves us.
And we love her back.
We rise up and call her blessed, the virtuous woman.