Every now and then I get a little urge for something sweet. Usually I try not to bake too many sweets because even looking at them seems to pack on the pounds.

Each year around Mother’s Day I feel more blessed and grateful than the year before. It seems as life goes on, my children respect me more and show their appreciation more often, especially my older children, who sometimes chose not to as teenagers. It feels good when you can be proud of the young adults your kids have become.

Some of the most special memories are when my children do nice things for me, especially when they make me breakfast in bed on Mother’s Day. I love seeing their proud faces when they bring me a plate full of eggs and toast.

There are those who will disagree with me when I say the country life is the best life. But in my opinion I can’t see living any other way.

One of my favorite ingredients to bake with is oatmeal. Using oatmeal is not only healthy, but acts as a filler to make foods go farther. Oatmeal can be substituted for bread crumbs in most recipes.

Darby and I were invited over one morning last week to our neighbor June Pearson’s home for a good old-fashioned breakfast.
 When we arrived she was scurrying to and fro from the cupboard to the stove, cooking up a feast that smelled like home.

The reality dating shows on television are not usually worth my time to watch, although I was curious about the latest “Sweet Home Alabama” that aired on CMT.

May 1 is right around the corner, but many youth of today no longer know about the celebration of May Day. I remember as a kid, we would make May baskets and drop them off at the neighbors’ doorsteps, knock on the doors and run. Since I’ve had children of my own, each year (with a few exceptions) my kids and I would make May baskets full of flowers and candy or baked goods and bring them to a neighbor or two. It is very simple tradition, but the kids really enjoy it.

Easter brought an untraditional celebration for our family this year. My husband Darby’s dad Bud moved into an apartment recently after quite a few visits to the emergency room, an overhaul on his pacemaker and having an ablation procedure done.

As a child I did not like the smell, taste or feel of onions. But my siblings and I were required to eat whatever was on our plates. We had to taste a little of everything – and anything we added to our plates, had to be eaten before we could leave the table.