Happy Mothers Day!!!
PJaddicted
Posts: 1,432
Got this in my Email today....
Happy Mother's Day:
>
> By Anna Quindlen, Newsweek Columnist and Author
> >
> > All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow, but in disbelief.
> >
> > I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults,
> two taller
> > than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I
> do and
> > have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion
> of them,
> > who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and
> cry, who
> > need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their
> doors
> > closed more than I like.
> >
> > Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move
> food from
> > plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the
> bathroom
> > with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within
> each, barely
> > discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.
> >
> > Everything in all the books I once poured over is finished for me now.
> Penelope
> > Leach, T. Berry Brazelton, Dr. Spo ck. The ones on sibling rivalry and
> sleeping
> > through the night and early-childhood education - all grown obsolete.
> Along with
> > Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered,
> spotted, well
> > used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like
> memories.
> > What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the
> playground taught
> > me, and the well-meaning relations - what they taught me, was that
> they couldn't
> > really teach me very much at all.
> >
> > Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes
> > multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an
> endless
> > essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive
> reinforcement,
> > another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout.
> > One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2. When my first
> child was
> > born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he
> would not
> > choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put
> down on
> > their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new
> > parent, this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing.
> >
> > Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will
> > follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's
> wonderful
> > books on child development, in which he describes three different
> sorts of
> > infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet
> codicil for
> > an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his
> fat little
> > legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he
> > developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last
> year he went
> > to China. Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can
> walk, too.
> >
> > Every part of raising children is humbling. Believe me, mistakes were
> made. They
> > have all been enshrined in the 'Remember-When-Mom-Did' Hall of Fame. The
> > outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language - mine, not theirs.
> The times
> > the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool
> pickup. The
> > nightmare sleepover. The horrible summercamp. The day when the
> youngest came
> > barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I
> responded,
> > 'What did you get wrong?' (She insisted I include that here.) The time
> I ordered
> > food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away
> without picking
> > it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not
> allow them
> > to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?
> >
> > But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while
> doing this.
> > I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now
> that the
> > moment is gone, captured o nly in photographs. There is one picture of
> the three
> > of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing
> set on a
> > summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate,
> and what
> > we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they
> slept that
> > night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing:
> > dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little
> more and the
> > getting it done a little less.
> >
> > Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and
> what was
> > simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday
> they would
> > become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they
> simply grew
> > into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I
> back off
> > and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense,
> > matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all
> turned out.
> > I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have
> done more
> > than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books
> never told
> > me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts.
> >
> It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.
>
Happy Mother's Day:
>
> By Anna Quindlen, Newsweek Columnist and Author
> >
> > All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow, but in disbelief.
> >
> > I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults,
> two taller
> > than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I
> do and
> > have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion
> of them,
> > who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and
> cry, who
> > need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their
> doors
> > closed more than I like.
> >
> > Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move
> food from
> > plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the
> bathroom
> > with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within
> each, barely
> > discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.
> >
> > Everything in all the books I once poured over is finished for me now.
> Penelope
> > Leach, T. Berry Brazelton, Dr. Spo ck. The ones on sibling rivalry and
> sleeping
> > through the night and early-childhood education - all grown obsolete.
> Along with
> > Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered,
> spotted, well
> > used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like
> memories.
> > What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the
> playground taught
> > me, and the well-meaning relations - what they taught me, was that
> they couldn't
> > really teach me very much at all.
> >
> > Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes
> > multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an
> endless
> > essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive
> reinforcement,
> > another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout.
> > One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2. When my first
> child was
> > born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he
> would not
> > choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put
> down on
> > their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new
> > parent, this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing.
> >
> > Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will
> > follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's
> wonderful
> > books on child development, in which he describes three different
> sorts of
> > infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet
> codicil for
> > an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his
> fat little
> > legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he
> > developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last
> year he went
> > to China. Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can
> walk, too.
> >
> > Every part of raising children is humbling. Believe me, mistakes were
> made. They
> > have all been enshrined in the 'Remember-When-Mom-Did' Hall of Fame. The
> > outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language - mine, not theirs.
> The times
> > the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool
> pickup. The
> > nightmare sleepover. The horrible summercamp. The day when the
> youngest came
> > barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I
> responded,
> > 'What did you get wrong?' (She insisted I include that here.) The time
> I ordered
> > food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away
> without picking
> > it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not
> allow them
> > to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?
> >
> > But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while
> doing this.
> > I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now
> that the
> > moment is gone, captured o nly in photographs. There is one picture of
> the three
> > of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing
> set on a
> > summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate,
> and what
> > we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they
> slept that
> > night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing:
> > dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little
> more and the
> > getting it done a little less.
> >
> > Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and
> what was
> > simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday
> they would
> > become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they
> simply grew
> > into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I
> back off
> > and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense,
> > matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all
> turned out.
> > I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have
> done more
> > than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books
> never told
> > me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts.
> >
> It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.
>
~*LIVE~LOVE~LAUGH*~
*May the Peace of the Wilderness be with YOU*
He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion.
— Unknown
*May the Peace of the Wilderness be with YOU*
He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion.
— Unknown
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Comments
Toronto 2011 night 2
Hamilton 2011
London 2013
And that failure's no success at all."
"Don't ya think its sometimes wise not to grow up."
"Cause life ain't nothing but a good groove
A good mixed tape to put you in the right mood."
so today we are at brunch and my son's communion was yesterday - and he said "mom, i am going to take all the money i got for my communion and get you those diamond earrings."
of course i would never allow him to do that, but the thought was so beautiful that i brought tears to my eyes. he is such a big hearted thoughtful little man. he makes me so proud!!! he will always be the best mother's day gift a mom could ever ask for.
happy mother's day to all our PJ moms!!!
That is the sweetest story. Brought a little tear to my eye
shes happy with that and besides im always buying her things..