Rachel was out walking with Jackie, her 4 year-old daughter. Jackie picked something up off the ground and started to put it in her mouth. Rachel asked her not to do that.
'Why Mummy?' came the reply.
'Because it's been lying outside and is dirty and probably has germs,' said
Rachel gently. At this point, Jackie looked at her mother in absolute
admiration and asked, 'Wow, Mum, how do you know stuff like that?'
'Oh, aaah,' commented Rachel thinking quickly, '... everyone knows this stuff. Um,
it's in the Mummy Test. You have to know it, or they don't let you be a Mummy,'
she finished triumphantly.
'Oh, really.' answered Jackie with a slightly confused expression.
Mother and daughter strolled along in silence for 2 or 3 minutes, as Jackie
pondered over this new information.
'I get it,' Jackie's face beamed with realisation. 'Then if you flunk the
test, you have to be the Daddy.'
Possibly true say Will and Guy.
Pilot Drops in to
Find Present for His Mother
A Thai air force pilot has been suspended from flying duties after allegedly
landing his helicopter in the countryside to collect wild mushrooms as a present
for his mother.
The air force ordered the provisional suspension and began
investigating after villagers in the western province of Kanchanaburi reported
the incident to police, said spokesman Captain Monthon Satchukorn. Monthon said
villagers said that a helicopter had circled a jungle clearing Wednesday before
landing, and when some of them went to investigate, they found that the pilot
When the pilot eventually returned, he told them he had been collecting
mushrooms for his mother.
Stories for Mothering Sunday
Sara, a little girl, is sitting and watching her mother wash the dishes at
the kitchen sink. At once she notices that her mother has several wisps of white
hair sticking out in contrast to the rest of her brunette hair. Sara looks at her mother and inquisitively asks,
'Why are some of your hairs white, Mum?'
Her mother answers, 'Well Sara, every time that you do something wrong and
make me cry or unhappy, one of my hairs turns white.'
Sara thinks about this revelation for a while and then inquires, Mummy, why
is it then that all of grandma's hairs are white?'
Dermot McCann forgot his lines in a Sunday school play. Luckily his is mother
was in the front row especially to prompt him.
She gestured and formed the words silently with her lips, but it did not
help. Dermot's memory was completely blank. Finally, she leaned forward and
whispered the cue, 'I am the light of the world.'
Dermot beamed and with great feeling and a loud clear voice announced, 'My
mother is the light of the world.'
Witty and Funny Mother's
Lionel phones his mother who is living in Gants Hill, London.
'Mum, how are you?' he asks.
'Not too good,' answers Lionel's mother, 'I've been very weak.'
Lionel, concerned asks, 'Why are you so weak, mother?'
She says, 'Because I haven't eaten in 23 days'
Lionel stammers, 'That's terrible. Why haven't you eaten in 23 days?'
His mother replies, 'Because I didn't want my mouth to be filled with
food if you should phone.'
Turning The Knife
While assembling furniture, Liz asked her friend's six-year-old
son, Ricky, to bring her a screwdriver.
'Do you want a 'Daddy'
screwdriver or a 'Mummy' screwdriver?' Ricky politely inquired.
by the question, Liz responded with, 'Bring me a 'Mummy' screwdriver.'
Ricky returned and handed her a butter knife.
Which Explains Why We Love Our Mothers
Mother and Father were watching TV when Mum 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 breakfast bowls, took meat out of the freezer for dinner 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
washer, ironed a shirt and secured a loose button.
She picked up the game pieces left on the table, put the phone back on the
charger and put the telephone book 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 text book 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 bag.
Mum then washed her face with a cleanser, put on her night cream and age
fighting moisturiser, brushed and flossed her teeth and filed 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 and the patio light was on.
She looked in on each of the kids and turned out their bedside lamps and
TV's, hung up a shirt, threw some dirty socks into the laundry basket, and had a
brief conversation with the one child 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 six most important
things to do list. She said her prayers, and visualised the accomplishment of
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.
Apparently in parts of the old Yugoslavia on the second Sunday before
Christmas, children stealthily approach and tie their mother's feet to a chair,
shouting, 'Mother's Day, Mother's Day, what will you pay to get away?'
Amazingly, she then gives them presents.
Children play the same trick on their father the following week and the children
get even more presents. Unfortunately, parents don't get to do the same to their
children the week after which is a pity say Will and Guy. Don't you agree?
How Mothering Sunday
The earliest occasions that can be accurately traced by historians, for
honouring the mother figure, are pre-Christian in origins, relating to the
mother-goddess of pagan religion and entwined with the springtime cycle of
renaissance [new life and rebirth].
The ancient Greeks chose a day in spring to honour the mother of the gods, Rhea:
early Christians held a springtime festival in honour of Mary the mother of
Jesus. As the Christian faith spread through Europe, this practice was carried
with it and this celebration of the Mother of Christ was gradually extended to
the Mother Church and, eventually, to honour all mothers.
Mothering Sunday has been celebrated in Britain on the fourth Sunday in Lent
probably since the 16th century. One suggestion of its origins is that the
custom originated in the church festival of 'Refreshment Sunday' when everyone
was expected to revisit the church in which they were baptised, their 'mother
Alternatively Mothering Sunday may have started when English Catholics were supposed
to travel to attend Mass in their 'Mother Church' [the regional cathedral]
rather than in their local parish. Whatever, by the Reformation, it had changed
into an occasion for children to visit parents.
Some people worked away from home as servants in the homes of the wealthy and
they would have been given a day off to visit their church and thus would have
been able to visit their families at the same time; eventually this became the
prime purpose of this annual visit and so 'Mothering Sunday' was born.
In the USA Mothers' Day (as opposed to Mothering Sunday) is celebrated on the second Sunday in May, a date fixed
in 1914; interestingly this date is shared by Australia, Belgium, Denmark,
Finland, Italy and Turkey.
A Mother's Love
Her love is like
an island in life's ocean,
vast and wide
peaceful, quiet shelter
From the wind, the rain, the tide.
on the north by Hope,
By Patience on the West,
By tender Counsel on
And on the East by Rest.
Above it like a beacon light
Shine Faith, and Truth, and Prayer;
And thro' the changing scenes of life
I find a haven there.
Another Poem For Mothering Sunday
Just a Mum Poem
A woman, was renewing her driver's license at the Motor Registration office,
The counter clerk asked her to state her occupation
She hesitated, uncertain how to classify
"What I mean is," explained the counter clerk,
"do you have a job or are you just a ...?"
"Of course I have a job," snapped the woman.
"I'm a Mum."
"We don't list 'Mum' as an
'housewife' covers it,"
Said the clerk emphatically.
I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself in the same situation, this time at our own Medicare office.
was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title like, "Official Interrogator" or "Town Registrar." "What is your occupation?" she probed.
What made me say it? I do not
The words simply popped out.
"I'm a Research Associate in the field of
Child Development and Human Relations."
The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair and looked up as though she
had not heard right.
I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words.
Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written,
In bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.
"Might I ask," said the clerk with new interest,
"just what you do in your field?"
Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice,
I heard myself reply,
"I have a continuing program of
(what mother doesn't)
In the laboratory and in the field,
(normally I would have said indoors and out).
I'm working for my Masters, (first the Lord and then the whole family)
already have four credits (all daughters).
Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities,
(any mother care to disagree?)
and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it).
But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards are
more of a satisfaction rather than just money."
There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as
Completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.
As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career,
I was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7, and 3.
Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model,
(a 6 month old baby) in the child development program,
Testing out a new vocal pattern.
I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy!
And I had
gone on the official records as someone more distinguished and indispensable to mankind than "just another Mum." Motherhood!
What a glorious career!
Especially when there's a title on the door.
this make grandmothers
"Senior Research associates in the field of
Child Development and Human Relations"
And great grandmothers
"Executive Senior Research Associates?"
I think so!!!
also think it makes Aunts
"Associate Research Assistants."
See more Mother's Day jokes �
us your interesting Mothering Sunday story.
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