Generations of Mothers

Do you see that pouty little child?  That is me surrounded by generations of mothers, my own, my grandmother, and her mother, my great grandmother, who out of kindness and motherliness held my little hand through this ordeal.

My own grandmother looks as annoyed by the event as I do.  Only my mother and my great grandmother seem to be pleased with our four generation accomplishment.  We are full Finns all, speak in that whispering sing-song language while breathing in or out.  There is no other sound like it.  I long to be fluent in it.

My grandmother was the eldest of her family of twelve, six brothers, six sisters.  All my heroes were cowboys and women of great strength and worthy of the admiration I have for them.

Happy Mother's Day to my own group of four generations of mothers including  four great grand babies about to welcome a fifth.  I am the oldest of this new group of mothers.