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Raising a Girl to Excel

by Traute Klein, AKA biogardener

Having raised half a dozen boys, my mother finally got a chance to raise a girl, me, and she excelled at the job, giving me the tools which I needed to grow up as a woman and a person.

Happy Birthday, Happy Mother's Day

Today is my mother's birthday. Like people who are born around Christmas, women born close to Mother's Day have to be content with one celebration. That did not bother my mother. She lived by the precept that it is more blessed to give than to receive. All through my childhood, I remember the many birthday celebrations for everyone in the family but not a single one for my mother. She was too busy preparing joy for other people and had no time to think of herself. She organized annual Sunday school Mother's Day concerts at church which rivalled the corresponding Christmas Eve celebrations. They were, in fact, far more memorable to me, because the church was always decorated with the most glorious spring flowers from our garden as well as from the surrounding meadows and forests. My mother had collected a wealth of poetry and songs about mothers, and for this special day, she rehearsed them with the Sunday school children. I have never heard of any other church presenting a Mother's Day concert, so I believe that this was her own idea. I have honored my mother's legacy by introducing Mother's Day celebrations in the churches in which I have taught Sunday school. People still talk about them with delight. All the choir members in my church still have bookmark tassels hanging out of their hymnbooks, bookmarks which the Sunday school children made for all the mothers in the church. My mother would be 94 years old today, if she had not left us at age 91 for her eternal home. I am sure she is sharing a big birthday cake in heaven today. She was a most hospitable woman on earth, and our house was always full of strangers who needed a place to stay. I have written other articles about her, including one about being reunited with her in heaven. They are linked below. Note: To honor her memory, I have decorated this article with some of my her favorite flowers. Actually, I think that whichever flower she happened to be looking at was her favorite. The flowers are arranged in the order in which they bloom. To find out their names in English and in German, hold the mouse over the graphic.

My Mother, My Model

My mother had plenty of chances to perfect her skills in raising boys before I came along, her first girl, as she proudly told my future husband repeatedly. After her older sister emigrated to the United States, she inherited the task of raising her three younger siblings while her mother managed their large estate. And those siblings were all boys. She married while still in her teens, and by age twenty, she had three boys of her own. Times were tough, and everyone had to chip in, doing chores, regardless of gender. All my brothers are good cooks. All of them know how to clean house, wash and iron clothes, plant a garden, make household repairs. And all of them know how to change diapers! Real flannel diapers which are fastened with big safety pins. They mastered some of these life skills before they learned to read and write. By the time I came along, the boys were attending school, and for the first and only time in her life, my mother could devote all of her time to just one baby. What a luxury! She enjoyed this baby more than any other, and she did her utmost to give me the best possible start in life.

A Girl is not a Boy

I was not like any baby my mother had ever raised. I showed no interest in any of the toys or games which my uncles and brothers had passed on from one to the other. All I wanted was to be like the woman I loved and admired. All I cared about was to be a mother. I only remember one toy which, however, was not a toy to me. My doll was my baby. I played with her for hours daily in spite of the ridicule of my big, tough brothers. On my 6th birthday, my mother rewarded me with the most wonderful presented which any girl ever received, a real baby, a baby boy. It was the only present I had asked for. My mother was a seamstress, and as she sewed, embroidered, knitted, or crocheted, she shared with me a wealth of knowledge in stories, songs, and poetry. I watched her handiwork and wanted to copy it, but according to handed down standards, I was too young. I therefore stole a ball of wool and a crochet hook and taught myself, copying what my mother was doing daily. When I was 5 years old, my mother thought that I was finally old enough to learn to crotchet. I then confessed my theft and showed her the finished dress which I had made for my doll.

A Girl or a Person

Even though I was all girl in personality, my mother made sure that I would be able to stand on my own feet as a person when I grew up. She instilled in me the sure knowledge that I could accomplish whatever I set my mind to. My brothers almost daily impressed on me that they were smarter than I, but my mother's confidence in me outweighed their prejudice. Of course they were smarter, 10 years smarter. Just give me a chance to catch up! Not only did I catch up. I excelled. Why? I could not let down the woman who knew that I would do her proud, and I could not let down the little girl who was determined to catch up to her smart brothers. My mother knew how to raise a girl to become a person, not just a woman.



Other Articles about My Family

My Mother, the Greatest Inspiration of My Life
I wrote this tribute to my mother's life on the day when she passed into glory after 30 long years of suffering from Alzheimer's disease.
Brought back to Life for a Purpose
While a homeopath worked to revive my lifeless body, my mother made a pact with God which would shape my life.
Email from Heaven
My first glimpse of heaven was my mother waiting to meet me. This essay won personal essay award of the month for February 2001.
Lessons I Learned from My Father
My father's stories, his poems, and his music left a legacy of faith and trust in my life.