Happy Birthday, to Donna

There is a family story: upon my seeing my mom's high school graduation photo on my grandma's dresser, I said, "That's my mother. She's so beautiful."
Wedding Day, August 15, 1953

Now, my mother raised me on the notion that "pretty is as pretty does," and I have to say, even against this stringent standard, my mother is Beautiful, with a capital B.

She was the kind of mom who let us build forts out of all the couch cushions. Five, soon to be six, Miltenbergers

And who would be up with you at 2 am to rub out the growing pains, even though she'd have to be at work bright and early the next morning. No matter what was for dinner, there was always enough for anyone we kids brought home. . .and sometimes we brought home friends who stayed through dinner and beyond.
Her two oldest grandsons might be taller than she is, but don't ever doubt who's in charge!

My mom would never be able to see this in herself -- lots of complicated reasons for that -- but she is one of the smartest women I know. All of my early manuscripts went to her for proofreading. And if she would only give herself the chance, she could write books to put me to shame.

I could never be the mom she was to us four kids and I will never be able to be the grammy she has been to her nine grandchildren.

Mom with Quinn; Grammy makes each grandchild feel like the favorite

I swear, Mother Teresa used my mom as a role model.

So Happy Birthday, Mom.
Couldn't you just eat her up?

Ever beautiful.