Monday, 4 August 2008


Real Mothers don't eat quiche; they don't have time to make it.
Real Mothers know that their kitchen utensils are probably in 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 shag carpet.
Real Mothers don't want to know what the vacuum just sucked up.
Real Mothers sometimes ask "why me?" and get their answer when a little voice says, "because I love you best."
Real Mothers know that a child's growth is not measured by height or years or grade...
It is marked by the progression of Mama to Mommy to Mom.

For all the times
you gently picked me up
when I fell down,
for all the times
you traded me
a warm smile for a frown,
for all the times
you tied my shoe
and tucked me into bed,
or needed something
for yourself
but put me first instead...
For everything we've shared -
the dreams, the laughter
and the tears...
I love you with
a special love
that deepens through
the years.

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