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1tokeovertheline · 05-13-2007, 09:53 AM

Happy Mothers Day to the mothers that post on MJ.com. I mean the females that have children not the other mothers.

Darque Pervert · 05-13-2007, 12:10 PM

Thanks, 1toke....
I know I can be a real mother sometimes... :lauigh:

Seriously. To all the mommies and mommies-to-be out there, This is your day! demand that your kids or husband or whoever pamper your ass! You deserve it!

**dedbr** · 05-13-2007, 12:21 PM

Yeah.....well.........In the words of Pooh, "Oh Bother!"

In the words of ded, "Happy Whatever Day it is......"

( "Mother's day stupid... " comes whispering out of the Bunker....")

Oh yeah, Happy Mother's Day! And many more, or something like that.....

1tokeovertheline · 05-13-2007, 12:22 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Darque Pervert

Thanks, 1toke....
I know I can be a real mother sometimes...

I made sure to specify which mothers I was referring to because with my time on this site, I knew it may cause confusion.

1tokeovertheline · 05-13-2007, 12:24 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by dedbr

( "Mother's day stupid... " comes whispering out of the Bunker....")

TUT quit whispering. Speak up, I can't hear you.

**dedbr** · 05-13-2007, 12:41 PM

1toke....

Quote:

TUT quit whispering. Speak up, I can't hear you.

UH, that was mommy....I was giving her her Mom's Day present away from the kids.......

Some Where In Ded Land.......Have a good one mom's....

**sterbo** · 05-13-2007, 01:22 PM

Mother's Day is a lie
Its rituals are stale and its practices disgusting, but she goes through the motions anyway.
By Erika Schickel
May 12, 2007

I LOVE BEING A MOTHER, but I hate Mother's Day. It is the most cooked-up holiday on the books.

I hate Mother's Day cards with their treacly, pastel sentiments, and all the sachet-scented lady gifts designed to flatter the Angel in the House. I hate carnations and baby's breath and the dozen sherbet-colored roses that invariably end up browning in a vase in my dining room. I don't care much for perfume or fancy sleepwear. I cannot stand Mother's Day drag. I'm 100% for tea-length dresses and straw hats any other day of the year, but on Mother's Day they become a costume, that of polite, self-satisfied, neutered American womanhood.

What is harder than the Mother's Day brunch? According to the National Restaurant Assn., six out of 10 Americans will be dining out Sunday. That means a long wait with hungry kids at the local waffle shack. On the other hand, it's better than breakfast in bed, which is to me the Seventh Circle of Hell. Burnt toast and bed sheets are a tragic combination. I hate trying to negotiate a newspaper while I balance a tray on my knees, making my little slave girls run for the jelly when all I want in the world is to get it myself and sit at the breakfast table, comfortably catching up on the news.

As long as I'm being a complete Scrooge here, I confess to not being as psyched about the homemade kid gift as I once was. I have portfolios bulging with doily-encrusted cards, "roses-are-red" poems and melted crayons smooshed between wax paper. All the sentimental detritus manufactured in our nation's classrooms, supervised into being by our children's teachers, who are mandated by our government to leave no child behind when it comes to toeing the corporate-sponsored party line on Mother's Day. I prefer the many spontaneous gifts that just spin off my kids on a daily basis: the love notes and bookmarks, poems and doodles, the goodnight kisses.

I recognize that most of my Mother's Day issues may stem from an early childhood trauma. In second grade, my class hand-dyed silk scarves for our moms. Mine came out in lovely, muted fawn-and-purple hues. As I waited in line for the ironing board, I trembled with excitement, fantasizing about how beautiful the scarf would look against my mommy's pretty, pretty auburn hair. When I got my turn, I lay the iron down on my creation, not knowing the kid before me had cranked the setting up to "linen." It burned a gaping black hole through the center of my scarf.

I was horrified and heartbroken. My valiant teacher tried to help me by sewing a huge, green felt patch over the hole, killing the drape, making it look like some kind of stiff, arthritic jelly fish. When I gave it to my mother, she told me she loved it. That was how I learned that mothers lie.

Mother's Day as it is practiced in this country is a total lie. It was originally conceived by social activist and poet Julia Ward Howe as a day for American women to unite in peace against the Civil War. She passionately declared in her Mother's Day proclamation: "Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience." She was saying that war makes obscenely moot all our hard work. Do you think if Howe were alive today, with so many of our sons in Iraq, she'd be out drinking mimosas and hoping for a CZ tennis bracelet?

Not that you'll find me in a breastplate of macaroni necklaces, militating in the streets against the war Sunday. I will be out cravenly hawking my mommy book, trying to cash in on the holiday with the rest of the Mother's Day profiteers, and no doubt I'll tuck into a stack of waffles with my family.

Why? Because as much as I hate Mother's Day, my kids just love it. They love any opportunity to demonstrate the passionate, obsessive, sticky, demanding, unspeakably tender love that animates them almost every day of their lives. That is the covenant that keeps us moms going through the tantrums and the lunch-making, the butt-wiping and the school assemblies. So even though I hate Mother's Day, I'll suck it up and celebrate it because I really, really love my kids. OK, and waffles.
.

**Hookahs** · 05-13-2007, 04:20 PM

**sterbo** · 05-14-2007, 12:42 AM

If my Mom didn’t love me the way she does
Then time would no longer hold meaning
She, keeper of my soul, that which she shared
As her young heart bled into mine
Turned blitheness to sweetness
In the blink of an eye
it’s to you Mom I turn
as days into nights hold me and show me
the way
my sweet dreams long by
used to…

Mrs. D. Pervert · 05-14-2007, 02:23 AM

I tried so hard today to not get misty-eyed playing with my new nephew. We took my mom out to lunch with my brother and step-sisters, and The Pooper was there in all his glory. Four months old, dimples and this beautiful smile.

Yeah, I considered temporary baby-napping to quiet that ticking uterus of mine. Mainly because The Pooper never spit up on me, but did his Other Aunt more than once. See, he likes me better...

05-13-2007, 09:53 AM	#1
1tokeovertheline Banned Join Date: Feb 2006 Posts: 6,963 Grams: 3,868.60 Groans: 21 Groaned at 2 Times in 2 Posts Thanks: 4,437 Thanked 2,273 Times in 681 Posts Stock Portfolio Total Value: 0.000 Gain/Loss: 0.000%	Happy Mothers Day Happy Mothers Day to the mothers that post on MJ.com. I mean the females that have children not the other mothers.

05-13-2007, 12:21 PM	#3
dedbr Domestic War Veteran Join Date: Mar 2001 Posts: 6,921 Grams: 47,119.95 Groans: 11 Groaned at 22 Times in 15 Posts Thanks: 2,464 Thanked 2,279 Times in 1,027 Posts Stock Portfolio Total Value: 0.000 Gain/Loss: 0.000%	Yeah.....well.........In the words of Pooh, "Oh Bother!" In the words of ded, "Happy Whatever Day it is......" ( "Mother's day stupid... " comes whispering out of the Bunker....") Oh yeah, Happy Mother's Day! And many more, or something like that..... __________________ Sometimes you can cut your own throat with your tongue..... So remember to check out our most wonderful Posting Guidelines!

05-13-2007, 01:22 PM	#7
sterbo sailor dog... Join Date: Feb 2007 Posts: 5,008 Grams: 16,308.57 Groans: 10 Groaned at 12 Times in 10 Posts Thanks: 2,586 Thanked 3,089 Times in 1,315 Posts Stock Portfolio Total Value: 0.000 Gain/Loss: -1.000%	One Mothers response - Mother's Day is a lie Its rituals are stale and its practices disgusting, but she goes through the motions anyway. By Erika Schickel May 12, 2007 I LOVE BEING A MOTHER, but I hate Mother's Day. It is the most cooked-up holiday on the books. I hate Mother's Day cards with their treacly, pastel sentiments, and all the sachet-scented lady gifts designed to flatter the Angel in the House. I hate carnations and baby's breath and the dozen sherbet-colored roses that invariably end up browning in a vase in my dining room. I don't care much for perfume or fancy sleepwear. I cannot stand Mother's Day drag. I'm 100% for tea-length dresses and straw hats any other day of the year, but on Mother's Day they become a costume, that of polite, self-satisfied, neutered American womanhood. What is harder than the Mother's Day brunch? According to the National Restaurant Assn., six out of 10 Americans will be dining out Sunday. That means a long wait with hungry kids at the local waffle shack. On the other hand, it's better than breakfast in bed, which is to me the Seventh Circle of Hell. Burnt toast and bed sheets are a tragic combination. I hate trying to negotiate a newspaper while I balance a tray on my knees, making my little slave girls run for the jelly when all I want in the world is to get it myself and sit at the breakfast table, comfortably catching up on the news. As long as I'm being a complete Scrooge here, I confess to not being as psyched about the homemade kid gift as I once was. I have portfolios bulging with doily-encrusted cards, "roses-are-red" poems and melted crayons smooshed between wax paper. All the sentimental detritus manufactured in our nation's classrooms, supervised into being by our children's teachers, who are mandated by our government to leave no child behind when it comes to toeing the corporate-sponsored party line on Mother's Day. I prefer the many spontaneous gifts that just spin off my kids on a daily basis: the love notes and bookmarks, poems and doodles, the goodnight kisses. I recognize that most of my Mother's Day issues may stem from an early childhood trauma. In second grade, my class hand-dyed silk scarves for our moms. Mine came out in lovely, muted fawn-and-purple hues. As I waited in line for the ironing board, I trembled with excitement, fantasizing about how beautiful the scarf would look against my mommy's pretty, pretty auburn hair. When I got my turn, I lay the iron down on my creation, not knowing the kid before me had cranked the setting up to "linen." It burned a gaping black hole through the center of my scarf. I was horrified and heartbroken. My valiant teacher tried to help me by sewing a huge, green felt patch over the hole, killing the drape, making it look like some kind of stiff, arthritic jelly fish. When I gave it to my mother, she told me she loved it. That was how I learned that mothers lie. Mother's Day as it is practiced in this country is a total lie. It was originally conceived by social activist and poet Julia Ward Howe as a day for American women to unite in peace against the Civil War. She passionately declared in her Mother's Day proclamation: "Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience." She was saying that war makes obscenely moot all our hard work. Do you think if Howe were alive today, with so many of our sons in Iraq, she'd be out drinking mimosas and hoping for a CZ tennis bracelet? Not that you'll find me in a breastplate of macaroni necklaces, militating in the streets against the war Sunday. I will be out cravenly hawking my mommy book, trying to cash in on the holiday with the rest of the Mother's Day profiteers, and no doubt I'll tuck into a stack of waffles with my family. Why? Because as much as I hate Mother's Day, my kids just love it. They love any opportunity to demonstrate the passionate, obsessive, sticky, demanding, unspeakably tender love that animates them almost every day of their lives. That is the covenant that keeps us moms going through the tantrums and the lunch-making, the butt-wiping and the school assemblies. So even though I hate Mother's Day, I'll suck it up and celebrate it because I really, really love my kids. OK, and waffles. . __________________ In loving memory of a little village and those who called it home... ~GG

05-13-2007, 04:20 PM	#8
Hookahs Mommy's Little Monster Tournaments Won: 6 Join Date: Nov 2004 Posts: 3,977 Grams: 76,645.17 Groans: 8 Groaned at 1 Time in 1 Post Thanks: 1,097 Thanked 901 Times in 566 Posts Stock Portfolio Total Value: 0.000 Gain/Loss: 0.000%	__________________ I smoke 2 joints in the morning, I smoke 2 joints at night. I smoke 2 joints in the, afternoon it makes me feel allright.I smoke 2 joints in time of peace and 2 in time of war.I smoke 2 joints before I smoke 2 joints then I smoke 2 more. Hard work good, hard work fine, but first take care of head. 420 Bookie Administrator 420 Bookie Guidelines Posting Guidelines

05-14-2007, 02:23 AM	#10
Mrs. D. Pervert Member Join Date: May 2007 Posts: 288 Grams: 1,861.70 Groans: 8 Groaned at 2 Times in 2 Posts Thanks: 10 Thanked 20 Times in 18 Posts Stock Portfolio Total Value: 0.000 Gain/Loss: 0.000%	I tried so hard today to not get misty-eyed playing with my new nephew. We took my mom out to lunch with my brother and step-sisters, and The Pooper was there in all his glory. Four months old, dimples and this beautiful smile. Yeah, I considered temporary baby-napping to quiet that ticking uterus of mine. Mainly because The Pooper never spit up on me, but did his Other Aunt more than once. See, he likes me better... __________________ If some of you acted in public the way you act on here, you'd be in jail for Public Assholery.

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05-13-2007, 12:10 PM	#2
Darque Pervert Jive Honkey Join Date: Feb 2006 Posts: 5,639 Grams: 21,302.45 Groans: 12 Groaned at 14 Times in 12 Posts Thanks: 270 Thanked 746 Times in 472 Posts Stock Portfolio Total Value: 0.000 Gain/Loss: -1.000%	Thanks, 1toke.... I know I can be a real mother sometimes... :lauigh: Seriously. To all the mommies and mommies-to-be out there, This is your day! demand that your kids or husband or whoever pamper your ass! You deserve it!

05-14-2007, 12:42 AM	#9
sterbo sailor dog... Join Date: Feb 2007 Posts: 5,008 Grams: 16,308.57 Groans: 10 Groaned at 12 Times in 10 Posts Thanks: 2,586 Thanked 3,089 Times in 1,315 Posts Stock Portfolio Total Value: 0.000 Gain/Loss: -1.000%	If my Mom didn’t love me the way she does Then time would no longer hold meaning She, keeper of my soul, that which she shared As her young heart bled into mine Turned blitheness to sweetness In the blink of an eye it’s to you Mom I turn as days into nights hold me and show me the way my sweet dreams long by used to…

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