Happy Mothers Day

Top 10 List of what Moms REALLY want for Mother's Day:

10. To be able to eat a whole candy bar (alone) and drink a soda without any floaties (ie. backwash).

9. To have my 14 year-old daughter answer a question without rolling her eyes in that "Why is this person my mother?" way.

8. Five pounds of chocolate that won't add twenty.

7. A shower without a child peeking through the curtain with a "Hi Ya Mom!" just as I put a razor to my ankle.

6. A full time cleaning person who looks like Brad Pitt.

5. For my teenager to announce "Hey, Mom! I got a full scholarship and a job all in the same day!"

4. A grocery store that doesn't have candy/gum/cheap toys displayed at the checkout line.

3. To have a family meal without a discussion about bodily secretions.

2. To be able to step on a plane with my toddlers and NOT have someone moan, "Oh no why me...!"

And the # 1 thing that moms REALLY want for Mother's Day is .... Four words: Fisher Price Play Prison!

Devider

4 YEARS OF AGE: My Mommy can do anything!
8 YEARS OF AGE: My Mom knows a lot! A whole lot!
12 YEARS OF AGE: My Mother doesn't really quite know everything.
14 YEARS OF AGE: Naturally Mother doesn't know that either.
16 YEARS OF AGE: Mother? She's hopelessly old-fashioned.
18 YEARS OF AGE: That old woman? She's way out of date.
3 25 YEARS OF AGE: Well, she might know a little bit about it.
35 YEARS OF AGE: Before we decide, let's get Mom's opinion.
45 YEARS OF AGE: Wonder what Mom would've thought about it?
65 YEARS OF AGE: Wish I could talk it over with Mom.

Devider

Your Mother is always with you.
She's the whisper of the leaves
as you walk down the street,
she's the smell of bleach in your freshly laundered socks,
she's the cool hand on your brow when you're not well.
Your Mother lives inside your laughter
And she's crystallized in every tear drop.
She's the place you come from, your first home;
And she's the map you follow with every step you take.
She's your first love and your first heartbreak,
and nothing on earth can separate you...
Not time, not space...not even death

Devider

Once upon a time there was a child ready to be born. So one day he asked God: "They tell me you are sending me to earth tomorrow but how am I going to live there being so small and helpless?" God replied, "Among the many angels, I chose one for you. She will be waiting for you and will take care of you." "But tell me, here in Heaven, I don't do anything else but sing and smile, that's enough for me to be happy." "Your angel will sing for you and will also smile for you every day. And you will feel your angel's love and be happy." "And how am I going to be able to understand when people talk to me, if I don't know the language that men talk?" "Your angel will tell you the most beautiful and sweet words you will ever hear, and with much patience and care, your angel will teach you how to speak." "And what am I going to do when I want to talk to you?" "Your angel will place your hands together and will teach you how to pray." "I've heard that on earth there are bad men. Who will protect me?" "Your angel will defend you even if it means risking its life." "But I will always be sad because I will not see you anymore." "Your angel will always talk to you about me and will teach you the way for you to come back to me, even though I will always be next to you." "At that moment there was much peace in Heaven, but voices from earth could already be heard, and the child in a hurry asked softly: "Oh God, if I am about to leave now, please tell me my angel's name." "Your angel's name is of no importance, you will call your angel: Mommy."

Devider

Before I was a Mom
I made and ate hot meals
I had unstained clothing
I had quiet conversations on the phone

Before I was a Mom
I slept as late as I wanted
And never worried about how late I got into bed
I brushed my hair and my teeth everyday

Before I was a Mom
I cleaned my house each day
I never tripped over toys or forgot words to lullabies
Before I was a Mom

I didn't worry whether or not my plants were poisonous
I never thought about immunizations

Before I was a Mom
I had never been puked on
Pooped on, spit on, chewed on, or peed on
Or pinched by tiny fingers

Before I was a Mom
I had complete control of my mind
My thoughts, my body, and my mind
I slept all night

Before I was a Mom
I never held down a screaming child
so that doctors could do tests
Or give shots
I never looked into teary eyes and cried
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin
I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep

Before I was a Mom
I never held a sleeping baby
just because I didn't want to put them down
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces
When I couldn't stop the hurt
I never knew that something so small
could affect my life so much
I never knew that I could love someone so much
I never knew I would love being a Mom

Before I was a Mom
I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body
I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby
I didn't know that bond between a mother and her child
I didn't know that something so small
could make me feel so important

Before I was a Mom
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night
every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay
I had never known the warmth
The joy
The love
The heart ache
The wonderment
Or the satisfaction of being a Mom

I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much
before I was a Mom

Devider

This is for all the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's OK honey, Mommy's here."

Who walk around the house all night with their babies when they keep crying and won't stop.

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who DON'T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see. And the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for all the mothers who froze their buns off on metal bleachers at football or soccer games Friday night instead of watching from cars, so that when their kids asked, "Did you see me?" they could say, "Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world," and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet like a tired 2-year old who wants ice cream before dinner.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the mothers who wanted to but just couldn't.

For all the mothers who read "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year. And then read it again. "Just one more time."

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for all mothers whose heads turn automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they know their own off spring are at home.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach aches, assuring them they'd be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up. Right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can't find the words to reach them.

For all the mothers who bite their lips sometimes until they bleed - when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.

What makes a good Mother anyway?

Is it patience?

Compassion?

Broad hips?

The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time?

Or is it heart?

Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time?

The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

The need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?

This is for all the mothers of the victims of all these school shootings, and the mothers of those who did the shooting. For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.

This is for mothers who put pinwheels and teddy bears on their children's graves.

This is for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation.

And mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.

Single mothers and married mothers.

Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all. So hang in there.

Please pass along to all the Mom's in your life, or to a wonderful mother you know.

"Home is what catches you when you fall - and we all fall."

Devider

The Occupation of Motherhood!

A woman renewing her driver's license at the DMV office was asked by the clerk to state her occupation. She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself. "What I mean is," explained the clerk, "do you have a job, or are you just a ......?

"Of course I have a job," snapped Emily. "I'm a Mom."

"We don't list 'Mom' as an occupation. 'Housewife' covers it," said the clerk emphatically.

I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself in the same situation, this time at our local police station. The clerk was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient, and possessed of a high-sounding title like, "Official Interrogator" or "Town Registrar."

"What is your occupation?" she probed.

What made me say it, I do not know. The words simply popped out. "I'm a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations."

The clerk paused, pen frozen in midair, and looked up as though she had not heard right. I repeated the title slowly, emphasizing the most significant words. Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire!

"Might I ask," said the clerk with new interest, "just what you do in your field?"

Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply, "I have a continuing program of research, (what mother doesn't?), in the laboratory and in the field (normally I would have said indoors and out).

I'm working for my Masters, (the whole bloody family), and already have four credits, (all daughters). Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities, (any mother care to disagree?) and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it). But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money."

There was an increasing note of respect in the girl's voice as she completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.

When I got home, buoyed by my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants--ages 10, 7, and 3. Upstairs, I could hear our new experimental model, (a 6-month-old baby), in the child-development program, testing out a new vocal pattern. I felt I had triumphed over bureaucracy! And I had gone on the official records as someone more distinguished and indispensable to mankind than "just another Mom."

Motherhood: What a glorious career! Especially when there's a title on the door.

Does this make grandmothers "Senior Research Associates in the field of Child Development and Human Relations," and great-grandmothers "Executive Senior Research Associates"??? I think so!!!

I also think it makes aunts "Associate Research Assistants."

Devider

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