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Welcome to my nursery. I've decided to collect all of my darling baby's pages here... in the children's wing of the sanctuary. Of course, my own babies aren't exactly babies anymore...but as I always tell them, even when they are fifty and balding they will still be my babies!!!!!!

They adore visitors and I have set up a guestbook in each of their rooms so if you don't mind....Please be an angel and sign their books!!!

This was sent to me, but I thought you might all enjoy it.

Mothers: Every Year is Their Year
This is for all the mothers who DIDN'T win Mother of the Year in 2001.
All the runners-up and all the wannabes.
The mothers too tired to enter or too busy to care.
This is for all the mothers who froze their bums off on metal bleachers at soccer games Friday night instead of watching from cars, so that when their kids asked, "Did you see my goal?" they could say "Of course, wouldn't have missed it for the world," and mean it.
This is for all the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's OK honey, Mommy's here."
This is for all the mothers of Kosovo who fled in the night and can't find their children.
This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see.
And the mothers who took those babies and made them homes.
For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes.
And all the mothers who DON'T.
What makes a good mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips?
The ability to nurse a baby, fry a chicken, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time?
Or is it heart?
Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time?
The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 a.m. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby?
The need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a school shooting, a fire, a car accident, a baby dying?
I think so.
So this is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies.
And for all the mothers who wanted to but just couldn't.
This is for reading "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year.
And then reading it again. "Just one more time."
This is for all the mothers who mess up. Who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair and stomp their feet like a tired 2 year old who wants ice cream before dinner.
This is for all the mothers who taught their daughters to tie their shoelaces before they started school.
And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.
For all the mothers who bite their lips -- sometimes until they bleed --
when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.
Who lock themselves in the bathroom when babies keep crying and won't stop.
This is for the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.
This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.
This is for all the mothers whose heads turn automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home.
This is for mothers who put pinwheels and teddy bears on their children's graves.
This is for mothers whose children have gone astray,
who can't find the words to reach them.
This is for all the mothers who sent their sons to school with stomachaches, assuring them they'd be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up.
Right away.
This is for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation.
And mature mothers learning to let go.
For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.
Single mothers and married mothers.
Mothers with money, mothers without.
This is for you all. So hang in there.
Better luck next year, I'll be rooting for you.

A wise parent says...
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.
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 Jell-O to a tree.
The joy of motherhood: the time 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.
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 willingly ~
communicable diseases and his mother's age.
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.
No wonder kids are confused today. Half the adults tell them to find themselves; the other half tell them to get lost.
Kids really brighten a household; they never turn off any lights.

The rooms in the nursery

Allyson's Pooh Page
Dylan's Scooby Page
Lost in Space with Tyler-not complete

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