From Mommy, to Mom, to Mother
Real Mothers don’t eat quiche; they don’t have time to make it. Real Mothers know that when they can’t find their kitchen utensils, they are probably lost somewhere inside the sandbox. Real Mothers often have sticky floors, filthy ovens and happy kids. Real Mothers know that dried play dough doesn’t come out of the carpet. Real Mothers want to know what the vacuum inhaled. Real Mothers sometimes ask, “Why me?” The truth comes quietly when she hears a little voice say, “Because I love you best.”
Real Mothers know that a child’s growth is not measured by height, years nor grade. A child’s growth is measured by whether the child calls his Mommy, Mom, or Mother.
The Images of Mother
4 YEARS OF AGE: My Mommy can do anything!
8 YEARS OF AGE: My Mom knows a whole lot!
12 YEARS OF AGE: My Mother doesn’t really know everything.
14 YEARS OF AGE: Naturally, Mother doesn’t know about 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 She’s way out of date!
25 YEARS OF AGE: Well, she might just know a bit about it!
35 YEARS OF AGE: Before we decide, let’s get Mom’s opinion.
45 YEARS OF AGE: Wonder what Mom would have thought about it?
65 YEARS OF AGE: Wish I could talk it over with Mom.
The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure she carries, nor in the way she combs her hair. A woman’s beauty is seen in her eyes; they are the threshold to her heart. Her beauty is not in a facial mole; her beauty is the passion that radiates through her soul. Her beauty evolves with each new passing year.
Happy Mother’s Day!
May 10th, 2009 on 1:31 am
That is beautiful although I do care about what is sucked up in the vacuum cleaner if I think it is something the kids would miss if it were gone
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May 23rd, 2009 on 7:31 am
Hey G-Friend, I was thinking about ya today and thought I’d stop by and say howdy. I’ve missed ya and I’m hoping you are well.
This post is really nice. I hope your Mother’s Day was sweet-n-easy. I know I’m not even fashionably late but I’ll be late for my own funeral. I was late for my own wedding so it’s par for the course, eh?
So I’m sending huge hugz-n-kizzez/love-n-laughter!
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May 23rd, 2009 on 11:34 pm
Lovely article. The last one has it for me. Carl Jung talks about our journey to ‘individuation’ as we get older. This sort of means ‘letting go’ and standing on our own two feet I guess. I go along with this, and yet it still doesn’t explain why I’d just like to sit on a bench and have a chat with my Mum once in a while. Or perhaps this shows I haven’t achieved Indiviudation yet? I keep wanting to check with her…’am I doing alright’ you’d think I’d be over that at 53!
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May 26th, 2009 on 2:07 am
Your site is this what i’m looking for, i have bookmarked it for future referrence