Jack Canfield - Chicken Soup for the Soul to Mom, With Love

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To Mom,
with Love

Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen

Backlist, LLC, a unit of

Chicken Soup for the Soul Publishing, LLC

Cos Cob, CT

www.chickensoup.com

Contents

I lie stretched out upon the window-seat
And doze, and read a page or two, and doze,
And feel the air like water on me close,
Great waves of sunny air that lip and beat
With a small noise, monotonous and sweet,
Against the windowand the scent of cool,
Frail flowers by some brown and dew-drenched pool
Possesses me from drowsy head to feet.

This is the time of all-sufficing laughter
At idiotic things some one has done,
And there is neither past nor vague hereafter.
And all your body stretches in the sun
And drinks the light in like a liquid thing;
Filled with the divine languor of late spring.

Stephen Vincent Bent

Motherhood:
A Transformation

Once upon a time I was a nurse, a writer and a wife. Then one day, I had a child. I became a mother. Added to the list of things I previously was, I became a chauffeur, a cook, a dresser, a wiper of dirty faces, a cleaner of soiled diapers, a retriever of thrown socks, a finder of lost shoes, a doer of homework, an insomniac. I was a referee in toy wars, a slayer of nighttime dragons, a soother of nervous school jitters. I was a room mother, a den mother, a leader of Girl Scouts and one day, mother of the bride. I calmed tantrums and bolstered fragile egos.

With each passing day my talents grew: I became a baker of cookies, a sewer of Halloween costumes extraordinaire. I could braid hair in the time most people wash their faces. And I could smile even when I didnt want to.

Where once my body had been my own to do with as I pleased, it now belonged to someone else. It became a breast to nourish at, a shoulder to cry on, a lap to sit and cuddle upon. My lips became the kissers of boo-boos, my hips the transporters of small, squirmy bundles. My feet were now used to walk the floor at all hours of the night, my arms became a cradle. I grew eyes in the back of my head, and my hearing became supersonic.

Once upon a time my name was Peggy. Then I became a mother and had as many aliases as a con man. I becameat various timesMm, Mama, Ma, Mommie, Mom, Mother, MOTHER! And for a brief period of mental vexation, Peg.

My mind, which used to flourish with egocentric thoughts, now became filled with irrational ideations: What if she fallsout of the crib? What if he chokes on his food? What if I do or saythe wrong thing? How will I know Im a good parent? How will Iknow Im a bad one?

My house, once so orderly and tidy, became a disorderly jumble of toys and stuffed animals, dried peas and empty, strewn formula bottles; a carpet of clutter and chaos; a dwelling of disarray.

My heart, once only given to another, was now taken from me and filled to the brim, bursting with devotion and love.

I was a Mother. I was an icon. Id done something no man had ever done, accomplished a feat so death defying and magical that many wouldnt even attempt it. I became a Mother. And in so doing, I became all that I was, all that I ever wished to be.

Peggy Jaeger

(Chicken Soup for Every Moms Soul)

Mom, I love you
because you make
me laugh.

The Origins of
Mothers Day

The earliest version of Mothers Day was inancient Greece where, in the springtime, peoplecelebrated the goddess, Rhea, who was themother of all gods. At dawn they would offerher honey cakes, fine drinks and flowers.

INGREDIENTS:

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 teaspoons baking

powder

teaspoon salt

teaspoon cinnamon

2 teaspoon orange zest

cup butter

cup white sugar

3 eggs

cup milk

1 cup chopped walnuts

1 cup white sugar

1 cup honey

cup water

1 teaspoon lemon juice

DIRECTIONS:

Preheat oven to 350. Grease and flour a 9-inch cake pan.

In a bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, salt, cinnamon and orange rind. Set aside.

In another large bowl, cream together the butter and cup sugar until light and fluffy.

One at a time, beat in the eggs and add the orange zest.

Mix in the dry ingredients, alternating with the milk, just until incorporated.

Stir in the walnuts.

Pour batter into prepared pan and bake for 40 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean. Allow to cool for 15 minutes and cut the cake into diamond shapes.

HONEY SYRUP:

In a saucepan, combine honey, 1 cup of sugar and water. Bring to a simmer and cook for 5 minutes, constantly stirring. Stir in lemon juice, bring to a boil and cook for 2 minutes.

Pour honey syrup over the cake.

When I was a little girl, I loved looking through my baby book. I would sit nestled on my mothers lap, while she carefully turned the pages for me. She read my name out loud. She read her name, my fathers name, my grandparents names. She read the date and time of my birth. She let me look inside the little envelope with a lock of my baby hair in it. My favorite part of the book was at the very end. It was three pages of photographs, and I was in every single one. The photos were slipping behind the clear plastic that refused to hold them in place and the plastic on one page was torn. This did not bother me in the least. I loved to look at the pictures of my mother holding the newborn me. When one photo slid behind another, my mother would pull it out, and I laughed in excitement as the hidden treasure was revealed.

Now I am a mother with a daughter of my own. As I put together a baby book for my daughter, I keep looking back into my own book. However, my baby book no longer looks the same. When I look at the photo of my mother bathing me, I notice that she looks tiredas I feel now. When I look carefully into the background of the photos, I see that my mothers kitchen had cluttered counters like my kitchen has now. I see photos of my smiling, happy face in a bathtub, oblivious to the clutter and my mothers fatiguejust as my baby smiles now.