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Show SflUfflffloWSirS -fk By Janet Wallis JLZ Mother means love All mothers have one main topic of conversation their children. If you don't belive me, just ask me about mine, and I'll tell you. Or any other mother and she will, too. We, mothers, come in three varieties. First, there are those mothers who view their children through rose-colored rose-colored glasses. According to these mothers, their adorable siblings can make their own beds "ship-shape" by age four. They don't scream when they are left in nurseries. They always do well in school. During teenage they never put a dent in the family car (or in anyone else's.) And they can coordinate the Junior Prom single-handed. You all know this kind of Mother. She looks twenty-three and carries pictures pic-tures of her darlings which further prove her motherly successes. "This is my Johnny. He's seventeen and an honor student. He has an after-school after-school job, but still finds time to play center on the basketball team. He's a natural, afterall, he's six-four." "And here's our Emily. She's our math whiz. Right at the top of her eighth grade. She keeps busy as a cheerleader and loves ballet classes. Watching her is such a joy. She's so graceful." "And this is Lester. His science project pro-ject took first place in the region. He's a model builder. And he's my best helper. I just call, 'Lester, Mother needs you,' and he always comes." "This is our youngest, Angie. She's only three and already she keeps her own room clean. She loves pre-school. And, yes her curls are natural." Second, there are mothers who delight in their little monster's antics. These mothers laugh when Junior pours his cereal in the toaster. Or when their offspring paint the family room with four different shades of leftover lef-tover paint. She thinks it's hilarious when the homecoming float her daughter is in charge of collapses before it reaches the parade's starting line. And she can even smile when her teenager's truck catches on fire and leaves him stranded in the middle of nowhere. It's hard to believe Mothering can be so much fun. And third, there are those mothers who know that "these brats are going to be the death of me, yet." This kind of mother suffers through juvenile court while her sixteen-year old pleads guilty to drag-racing. She dies of embarassment when she receives a call from the junior high principal telling her it was her son who instigated dragging a live cow into the school library. She prays for anomimity when her eight-year-old is picked up for shoplifting shoplif-ting an 89 cent toy. And she winces with real pain when her three-year-old, her last hope, demonstrates that he is not yet potty-trained. potty-trained. Yes, there are three types of mother and each one endures and enjoys the ups and downs of motherhood for the same reason. My third grown son, who put me through the usual amount of growing-up growing-up pains, once sent me an original Mother's Day card which said it all. On the cover he drew a large scientific scien-tific aparatus he called a "Love Synthesizer." Syn-thesizer." It is pumping "concern," "devotion," "kindness," "unselfishness" and "tenderness" through a myriad of glass tubes. On the inside there is a single glass tube coming from the synthesizer which drops one speck of red liquid into a vibrating heart-filled beaker. Underneath it he wrote these words, "You don't have to be a mad scientist to create love. All you need is a mother." And, you know, it really doesn't matter mat-ter which kind of Mother you are, as long as Mother means Love. |