This is Lilly Cavanaugh Kuykundall.It is written on the back of the photo. Related to me somehow. I know this ,because my great grandmother’s maiden name was Kuykundall. Lilly is dressed well, has a kind face, but who Lilly actually IS I have no idea. Is she ; Fun? Honest? Believer? Sickly? Mean? Depressed? There is no way of knowing who she is, there is no way of knowing whom anyone is from a photograph.
I have struck many a pose in my life. Many forms a dress, many hats I have worn. My ‘cover’ may reveal some of the content of a certain chapter of my life, but it does not tell whom I am. Not to a stranger. Those that know me, could look at pictures of me and possibly see a look that they have seen in ‘live’ action 
and know it to belong to a certain persona of mine. Most of those who know me, though ,probably look at these pictures and just get a glimpse of my ‘type’ of life.
I look at the pictures and know the reason behind the pose. Beyond it being for Easter with the cousins.
I know this is trip to Corpus Christi to visit the cousins. I loved being with my cousin Julie, just nine months younger, and Fran, a couple of years ahead. Always wanted Fran to pay a bit more attention to me. 
I know the hat I wore is still in my closet. My granddaughters want to put it on and wear it around. I love iris’ and their little yellow caterpillar insides. My Mamaw grew them well. It was her joy to have us with her Easter and to pose us in front of the flowers.
. I look at pictures of my brother Kirk and think, if I did not know him, I would not know how he had lived. That he was a talented musician and artist. That he has a daughter who will soon have his first grandchild. You can’t tell from pictures that he died too young. . I wish I could remember his hands on my shoulders.
I was so much younger than Mike and Kirk, and a girl, I don’t have memories with doing a lot with my brothers ,don’t think I did. 
I was a bit on my own, but never really lonely. I know they loved me. 
We do have all of those times all dressed up and smiling together. 
.A picture of girl in a brown dress does not tell you that she can not ride anything that goes in circles without tossing her cookies. The first time I knew I could not spin, I was being pushed on the merry go round at church, in this dress.
This brown dress, shows me to be a dutiful Brownie. Who joined a group activity and learned the verses and wore the uniform with pride. NOT. I can’t stand organized group activities. I don’t like wearing uniform, just so. To recite a verse ‘to belong’ is cheesy to me. Competing with others to get the most patches to do more activities than the others makes my throat tighten and my stomach churn. Not just for myself, but for the other who may not be able to beat me. I don’t want anyone to feel less, because of me. So I will not compete, I hate to compete.
I love to dress up. I love the gift of clothes. My mother taught me every event deserved a new dress. Christmas
A new haircut 
Even if it was because I got gum stuck in it and had to have it all cut off. .
12 years of first day of school outfits
My grandparents returning from a vacation to Hawaii 
even Barbie received some new wear. 
Anytime I got all dressed up, around Mom and Dad, they would take a snap,Like they needed to immortalize the pretty, because it was so rare. I really didn’t know I was ‘pretty’ nor thin. I always thought of myself as a 6x, because I wore that size as a child. I thought that X meant LARGE. My cousin couldn’t wear 6x and she was always a little smaller than I, I thought that was cause I was an amazon. Now I know it is because she is genetically an Akers with no shoulder span, and I am genetically a Dorsett/Gulick (german) and have broad shoulders.
Easter , of course,was another moment of posing, from birth 
till mom died ,I had a special easter/birthday dress
, with a stuffed bunny or chick to go with
. This time of the year in time for Easter, in April I, have a bit of a ‘need’ to shop spring clothes, and pretty dresses. Mom would always always make sure I had my Easter/Birthday ensemble; a dress or two, hair ribbons, hose, ruffle socks, a hat, a purse. We shopped together, we splurged on me, together. This really was one annual mother daughter time we spent together. Mother could kill three birds in the spring, Easter, Birthday and Mother Daughter time. I loved it.
Band banquets. We did not get proms. 
Then I found a guy who did, and got to go to his prom 
I felt like the country bumpkin at his big ole school prom.
Then there are the years I performed. 
I looked like I could play. I do know how to read music, I do know where the keys are.
Then there was dance. A little candle
A wood nymph 
A dance teacher who told me I walked like a duck. She would call me out in front of all the girls as the example of what not to do. I was 5. We had just moved from my safe small town, just me and my baby sitter ,Mamie life, to Abilene. I was with others kids in kindergarten, after school program, teachers and ‘caregivers’ who did not know me for the first time. I was very afraid and lonely
Mother changed my dance to Mrs. OBrian. 
Mrs OBrian would sit and talk with me, give me hot tea as we waited for my mother to arrive late, once a week. I loved my time with her. Mrs OBrian gave me a beautiful charm bracelet for my birthday.
Then came dance with Miss Maxine, in Slaton. 
I really wanted to be a ballerina.
Started to see that I might be kind of cute. I could dance a bit. The girls in Slaton all grew up together, I was an ‘outsider’ I just did not get why it mattered to them where I lived. I learned much later, it was that competition thing, I just did not get.
Dance lead to
Twirling. 
Not because I had a heart to dance, or felt the drive to just express myself with dance
Not because I had a great talent for spinning a metal rod. It was more because I was not cheerleader material. People liked me, I was cute enough, but I am not a cheerleader. Not a social monkey. I don’t compete. Take me or leave me kind of person. In my 7th grade year, Mom had this wonderful plan for me to be a twirler. I had never picked up a baton in my life. Mom paid for a few lessons for me. Talked to the band director (Dad was Jr. High Principle, Mom was 4th grade teacher so they are co workers). Set me up for try outs and sent me in. I got it. I think all of the girls who tried out got it.
I twirled for 6 years- Jr High and High School. I had 4 Band Directors. I don’t think I had to try out again. But the competition was still there. Who was skinniest? Not me , but I was not fat, and I did need a bra, unlike….Who dropped the baton the most?
Me, cause I knew they would give me hell about it. Who thought they were the prettiest? Not me
Who was twirled the longest? Pam always claimed to be her, we started the same time, and she couldn’t twirl a few times because of grades so technically…. But who is counting? 😉 Who could be the biggest bitch?Not Me Who had the a date every Friday after the game and the biggest mum at homecoming? ME, JR. & SR year
I look at ME in my pictures and I see who I have been,who I tried to be. 
I know those times I look brave and courageous, I am really only being sustained and guided by God.
I know how insecure I felt
I know how much people miss not knowing the ME I am and just assuming they do, cause they look at the cover. . 
I know how much I cared for those around me and how grateful I am to have them.
I know how blessed I am. 
I know there is a wonderful story about me, that God wrote
I want to be more than a picture.
#2 son was born 29 years ago, 3 days ‘late’ (St Pat’s day was due date)He would have been 2 days late if the cord had not been around his neck and the nurse had moved a bit faster toget the gloves for the doctor 😉 He was born at 12:04 AM.
The boys remind me of my failures,as a mom, so often.Usually it is the same few ‘bad Mommy dearest moments. But still, I wish they did not have those to remember. I always respond in my defense, that there were 365 days in a year and they lived with me for 18 years, so just to have a few baddies in the midst of all the rest, I can’t have been that horrendous a mom.
Still not. I can remember them having tents intheir room,I must have set that up. We colored together. Built Lego junk. Played outside with the dogs and riding toys. I must have dumped and refilled the kiddie pool twice a day in the summer, between them peeing in it and the dogs swimming and shedding in it. Played in their oversized room with the Little Tykes slide, and teeter totter. We walked to the little ‘old stuff’ park at least once a week, stopping at the blue house to talk to the elderly man who would always call out to us. He would ruffle Lee’s hair, Lee would act silly and Brian would stare at him from the stroller, daring him , with those giant ,brown, introvert eyes, to just try and touch his head. 
We would go to their grandmothers house (my mother in law) to swim, THEY loved it. We made trips to my parents without Keith and just ‘do’ Lubbock and Ransom Canyon.
. I wanted to homeschool them all, but as circumstances were, I only had opportunity to homeschool Evan. I did not like the school people telling me to feed my kids breakfast and wanting excuses of why I did not send them to school. They are MINE, if I want to starve them in the morning and send them to Tinbucktoo I can, it is no business of MISD!On Brian Attack days I loved having him home with me, except that he was sick, yet again, and we did not know why.
Evan is a bit of a different go back. The olders think he is lacking because I coddle too much. Maybe. 
But I think he has more than anyone expected him to have, because I pushed him really really hard. I wantedhim to be so much like his brothers, to have everything they did and would. The olders don’t see that the time spent pushing Evan was not the fun stuff they and I got to do.
The playground with Evan I was pushing prodding, forcing ,him to climb, to cross bridges, to swing high. It scared him, it frustrated me, it was not fun. Growing up was not fun for Evan, Lee and Brian don’t see that.
I'm Not So Petty 