Inspirations for
Moms

When God created Mothers

by Erma Bombeck

When the Good Lord was creating mothers, He was into his sixth day of "overtime" when an angel appeared and said, "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."
And the Lord said: "Have you read the specs on this order?

The angel shook her head slowly and said, "Six pairs of hands... no way."
"It's not the hands that are causing me problems," said the Lord. "It's the three pairs of eyes that mothers have to have."
"That's on the standard model?" asked the angel.
The Lord nodded. "One pair that sees through closed doors when she asks: 'What are you kids doing in there?' when she already knows. Another here in the back of her head that sees what she shouldn't but what she has to know, and of course the ones here in front that can look at a child when he goofs up and say, 'I understand and I love you' without so much as uttering a word."
"Lord," said the angel, touching His sleeve gently, "Go to bed. Tomorrow..."
"I can't," said the Lord, "I'm so close to creating something so close to myself. Already I have one who heals herself when she is sick... can feed a family of six on one pound of hamburger... and can get a nine-year-old to stand under a shower."
The angel circled the model of a mother very slowly. "It's too soft," she sighed.
"But she's tough!" said the Lord excitedly. "You cannot imagine what this mother can do or endure."
"Can it think?"
"Not only can it think, but it can reason and compromise," said the Creator.
Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek. "There's a leak," she pronounced. "I told You You were trying to push too much into this model."
"It's not a leak," said the Lord. "It's a tear."
"What's it for?"
"It's for joy, sadness, disappointment, pain, loneliness, and pride."
"You are a genius," said the angel.
The Lord looked somber. "I didn't put it there," He said.

A long time ago...

Once there were two tribes, one that lived in the lowlands and the other high in the mountains. The mountain people invaded the lowlanders one-day, and as part of their plundering of the people, they kidnapped a baby of one of the lowlander families and took the infant with them back up into the mountains. The lowlanders didn’t know how to climb the mountain. They didn’t know where to find the mountain people or how to track them in the steep terrain. The tribal council met, and it was decided to send out their best and the smartest villagers to climb the mountain and bring the baby home. The parents asked to be a part of the group sent to find the baby, but the council decided that the parents did not have the skills needed for such a challenging task. The hunters tried one method of climbing and then another. They tried one trail and then another. After several days of effort, however, they had climbed only several hundred feet. Feeling hopeless and helpless, the villages decided that the cause was lost, and they prepared to return to their village below. As they were packing their gear for the descent, they saw the baby’s parents walking toward them. They realized that they were coming down the mountain that they themselves hadn’t figured out how to climb. And then they saw that the parent’s had the baby. How could that be? The head of the villagers greeted the parents and said, “We couldn’t climb this mountain. How did you do this when we, the strongest, smartest, and most able in the village couldn’t do it?” The parents looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders and said, ‘It wasn’t your baby.”

Adapted from “You Don’t Have to Be Blind to See” Jim Stovall
Thomas Nelson Publishers
Found at: Linda’s Inspiration Pointe

The Green, Green Grass of Home

By Erma Bombeck, written November 1971

When Mike was 2, he wanted a sandbox, and his father said: There goes the yard. We'll have kids over here day and night, and they'll throw sand into the flower beds, and cats will make a mess in it, and it'll kill the grass for sure.

And Mike's mother said, It'll come back.

When Mike was 5, he wanted a jungle gym set with swings that would take his breath away and bars to take him to the summit, and his father said: Good grief, I've seen those things in back yards, and do you know what they look like? Mud holes in a pasture. Kids digging their gym shoes in the ground. It'll kill the grass.

And Mike's mother said, It'll come back.

Between breaths, when Daddy was blowing up the plastic swimming pool, he warned: You know what they're going to do to this place? They're going to condemn it and use it for a missile site. I hope you know what you're doing. They'll track water everywhere and have a million water fights, and you won't be able to take out the garbage without stepping in mud up to your neck. When we take this down, we'll have only brown lawn on the block.

It'll come back, Mike's mother said.

When Mike was 12, he volunteered his yard for a campout. As they hoisted the tents and drove in the spikes, his father stood at the window and observed, Why don't I just put the grass seed out in cereal bowls for the birds and save myself the trouble of spreading it around? You know for a fact that those tents and all those big feet are going to trample down every single blade of grass, don't you? Don't bother to answer. I know what you're going to say. "It'll come back."

The basketball hoop on the side of the garage attracted more crowds than the Olympics. And a small patch of lawn that started out with a barren spot the size of a garbage can lid soon drew to encompass the entire side yard.

Just when it looked as if the new seed might take root, the winter came and the sled runners beat it into ridges. Mike's father shook his head and said, I never asked for much in this life - only a patch of grass.

And his wife smiled and said, It'll come back.

The lawn this fall was beautiful. It was green and alive and rolled out like a sponge carpet along the drive where gym shoes had trod … along the garage where bicycles used to fall … and around the flower beds where little boys used to dig with iced-tea spoons.

But Mike's father never saw it. He anxiously looked beyond the yard and asked with a catch in his voice, He will come back, won't he?

Mothers' Message

by Author Unknown

We are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family." "We're taking a survey," she says, half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"
"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.
"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations...."
But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.
I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.
I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation.
I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.
I want my daughter to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma.
That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.
However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother. Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years-not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.
I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.
My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks.
I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic. I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's future.
I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts. My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes.
"You'll never regret it," I finally say.
Then I reach across the table, squeeze my daughter's hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.

For all Mothers

by Sharon Bryant
In Memory of my son Andy

This is for ALL Mother's
The young and the old
This is for the love
You each all hold.

This is for the mom's
Who stayed up half the night
Holding a frightened child
Telling them everything is all right.

This is for the mom's
Who were always there in need
Dr. visits, school functions, activities
The "teacher" for all children, indeed.

For the mom's who work full time
Yet keep a family a "home"
For the mom's who come home tired
Yet find time to wash a laundry load.

For the mom's who have "special children"
Who give unconditional love
I think you all know God is watching
Knowing His choice was right from above.

For the mom's who bake for bake sales
For the ones who volunteer
For school and church functions
You should be named "Mother's of the Year!"

For the mom's who stand proudly
At school on awards day,
When their child's name is called
The pride cannot be measured in any way.

To the mom's who carried their children
To band, debate, and football
Driving many times long distances
To see their children proudly standing tall.

To the mom's who give so freely
And never once complain
For the sacrifices they offer
Who come thru in snow, sunshine or rain.

For the mom's who have angels
Who get depressed and feel so blue
May you all see your angel
And know they can see you.

For the mom's who have lost their own mother's
And wish they had just five minutes more
To pick up the phone and say, "Hi Mom"
If only the past, we could restore.

This is for all mother's You all deserve an award
You are the foundation of learning
I don't think I need say anymore.

A salute to phenomenal women

Mom and Dad were watching TV when Mom said: "I'm tired, and it's getting late. I think I'll go to bed."
    She went to the kitchen to make sandwiches for the next day's lunches, rinsed out the popcorn bowls, took meat out of the freezer for supper the following evening, checked the cereal box levels, filled the sugar container, put spoons and bowls on the table and started the coffee pot for brewing the next morning.
    She then put some wet clothes in the dryer, put a load of clothes into the wash, ironed a shirt and secured a loose button.
    She picked up the game pieces left on the table and put the telephone book back into the drawer.  She watered the plants, emptied a wastebasket and hung up a towel to dry.
 She yawned and stretched and headed for the bedroom.
    She stopped by the desk and wrote a note to the teacher, counted out some cash for the field trip, and pulled a textbook out from hiding under the chair.
    She signed a birthday card for a friend, addressed and stamped the envelope and wrote a quick note for the grocery store. She put both near her purse.
Mom then creamed her face, put on moisturizer, brushed and flossed her teeth and trimmed her nails.
    Dad called out, "I thought you were going to bed." "I'm on my way," she said.  
She put some water into the dog's dish and put the cat outside, then made sure the doors were locked.
   She looked in on each of the kids and turned out a bedside lamp, hung up a shirt, threw some dirty socks in the hamper, and had a brief conversation with the one up still doing homework.
    In her own room, she set the alarm, laid out clothing for the next day, straightened up the shoe rack.
    She added three things to her list of things to do for tomorrow.
     About that time, Dad turned off the TV and announced to no one in particular, "I'm going to bed."
      And he did...without another thought.

~~Motherhood ~~

If it was going to be easy, it never would have started with something called labor!

Shouting to make your children obey is like using the horn to steer your car, and you get about the same results.

To be in your children's memories tomorrow, you have to be in their lives today.

The smartest advice on raising children is to enjoy them while they are still on your side.

Avenge yourself ~~~ Live long enough to be a problem to your children.

The best way to keep kids at home is to make the home a pleasant atmosphere ~~ and to let the air out of the tires.

The right temperature in a home is maintained by warm hearts, not by hot heads.

Raising a teenager is like nailing Jello to a tree.

Parents: People who bare infants, bore teenagers, and board newlyweds.
The joy of motherhood: What a woman experiences when all the children are finally in bed.

Life's golden age is when the kids are too old to need baby-sitters and too young to borrow the family car.

Any child can tell you that the sole purpose of a middle name is so he can tell when he's really in trouble.

Grandparents are similar to a piece of string ~ handy to have around and easily wrapped around the fingers of grandchildren.

A child outgrows your lap, but never outgrows your heart.

God gave you two ears and one mouth... so you should listen twice as much as you talk.

There are three ways to get something done: Do it yourself, hire someone to do it, or forbid your children to do it.

Adolescence is the age when children try to bring up their parents.

You know the only people in this world who are always sure about the proper way to raise children? Those who've never had any.

Cleaning your house while your kids are at home is like trying to shovel the driveway during a snowstorm.

Oh to be only half as wonderful as my child thought I was when he was small, and half as stupid as my teenager now thinks I am.

There are only two things a child will share willing: communicable diseases and his mother's age.

Money isn't everything, but it sure keeps the kids in touch.

Adolescence is the age at which children stop asking questions because they know all the answers.

An alarm clock is a device for awakening people who don't have small children.

Why is it that our children can't read a Bible in school, but they can in prison?

How do you cope when the apple of your eye becomes a bone in your throat?

No wonder kids are confused today.  Half the adults tell them to find themselves; the other half tell them to get lost.

The persons hardest to convince they're at the retirement age are children at bedtime.

Kids really brighten a household; they never turn off any lights.

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Victims ask for pity, Victors look for challenge.
Victims worry about who is to blame, Victors find a way to make a difference.
Victims complain, Victors take action.
- Ralph Marston.

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Last Updated: July 02, 2006
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