We love you MOM!!!
Things My Mom taught me
Author Unknown
My Mother taught me about ANTICIPATION ...
"Just wait until your father gets home. "
My Mother taught me about RECEIVING ...
"You are going to get it when we get home!"
My Mother taught me to MEET A CHALLENGE ...
"What were you thinking? Answer me when I talk to you ...
Don't talk back to me!"
My Mother taught me LOGIC ...
"If you fall off that swing and break your neck,
you're not going to the store with me."
My Mother taught me MEDICAL SCIENCE ...
"If you don't stop crossing your eyes, they are going to freeze that way."
My Mother taught me to THINK AHEAD ...
"If you don't pass your spelling test, you'll never get a good job."
My Mother taught me ESP ...
"Put your sweater on; don't you think I know when you're cold?"
My Mother taught me HUMOR ...
"When that lawn mower cuts off your toes,
don't come running to me."
My Mother taught me how to BECOME AN ADULT ...
"If you don't eat your vegetables, you'll never grow up."
My Mother taught me about SEX ...
"How do you think you got here?"
My Mother taught me about GENETICS ...
"You're just like your father."
My Mother taught me about my ROOTS ...
"Do you think you were born in a barn?"
My Mother taught me about WISDOM OF AGE ...
"When you get to be my age, you'll understand."
And my all-time favorite ... JUSTICE ...
"One day you'll have kids, and I hope they turn out just like you ...
then you'll see what it's like!"
Through the Years
My mother, Hazel, sits peeling potatoes. Dressed in Mama's
movie star coat with the real fur collar, high heels, and
beautiful red velvet hat, I shuffle elegantly into the kitchen
and gleefully yell, "Look Mommy, I'm little Hazel!" Mama looks up and smiles with tears in her eyes. I am completely aware of
how incredibly cute I am being. I am four years old, and Mama is my friend.
"Oh, Mom, it's so pretty! I love it! Thank you, thank you, thank you," I cry as I turn and rustle in my new party
dress. My fingers touch the soft, peach satin, and I look up to
see Mom smiling at me. I am nine years old, and, sometimes, Mom is still my fairy godmother.
"I'll be glad when I go to college next year and don't have
to live here any more," I scream at my mother. "If you keep on acting this way," she says in frustration, "I'll be glad too."
Hurt and shocked by this revelation, I storm out of the room,
trying to hold back my tears. I am seventeen years old, and,
too often Mother is my adversary.
"I did it! I did it! I got an A from Professor King," I shriek. I leap to my feet, waving my report card in the warm
kitchen air. Mom tells me she's proud of me, and we dance around the kitchen in a wild victory jig. I am twenty-one years
old, and Mom is my biggest cheerleader.
I am barely able to make out "Flight 405 to Great Falls is
now ready for boarding" over the airport intercom. After all
those times when it was me leaving and my mother was crying, it's now her turn to depart, and I am the one left crying. I
look at Mama and do something I haven't done since I was four years old; I grab her hand and say, "Don't leave."
She touches my cheek and says, "But honey, I've got my ticket."
Hugging her close to me, I say, "The only way I'll let you go is if you promise to come back for Christmas."
Dabbing at her own tears, she says, "Oh yes, I'll be back." I am thirty-seven years old,
and Mama is my friend. This time, it is forever.
By Nancy Richard-Guilford
from A 6th Bowl of Chicken Soup for the Soul by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen
THE HEART OF A WOMAN....
Author Unknown
By the time the Lord made woman, he was into his Sixth day of working overtime. An Angel appeared and said, "Why are you spending so much time on
this one?"
And the Lord answered and said, "Have you seen the spec sheet on her? She has to be completely washable, but not plastic, have 200 movable parts, all replaceable, run on black coffee and leftovers, have a
lap that can hold two children at one time and that disappears when she stands up, have a kiss that can cure anything from a scraped
knee to a broken heart, and have six pairs of hands."
The Angel was astounded at the requirements for this one. "Six pairs of hands! No Way!" said the Angel.
The Lord replied, "Oh, it's not the hands that are the problem. It's the three pairs of eyes that mothers must have!"
And that's just on the standard model?" The Angel asked.
The Lord nodded in agreement. "Yep, one pair of eyes are to see through the closed door as she asks her children what they are doing even though she
already knows. Another pair in the back of her head are to see what she needs to know even though no one thinks she can. And the third pair are here
in the front of her head. They are for looking at an errant child and saying that she
understands and loves him or her without even saying a single word."
The Angel tried to stop the Lord. "This is too much work for one day. Await until tomorrow to finish.
"But I can't!" The Lord protested, "I am so close to finishing this creation that is so close to my own heart. She already heals
herself when she is sick and can feed a family on a pound of hamburger and can get a nine year old to stand in the shower."
The Angel moved closer and touched the woman, "But you have made her so soft, Lord."
"She is soft," the Lord agreed, "but I have also made her tough. You have no idea what she can endure or accomplish."
"Will she be able to think," asked the Angel?
The Lord replied, "Not only will she be able to think, she will be able to reason, and negotiate."
The Angel then noticed something and reached out and touched the woman's cheek. "Oops, it looks like you have a leak with this
model. I told you that you were trying to put too much into this one."
"That's not a leak." The Lord objected. "That's a tear!"
"What's the tear for?" the Angel asked.
The Lord said, "The tear is her way of expressing her joy, her sorrow, her pain, her disappointment, her loneliness, her grief, and
her pride."
The Angel was impressed. "You are a genius, Lord. You thought of everything, for women are truly amazing."
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"Memorial Page to Hazel Brand"
