Memories of My Mom
Just because you’ve never won anything in your life, should not deter you from submitting your poignant story about your Mom.
It’s more about sharing and being able to show your Mom the memories of times past, that you cherish and hold dear.
Read the background for our “Mom’s are Special“ event.
The winning entry will be chosen by a random drawing. We consider everyone’s story about their Mom special.
If you’re the winner, you’ll have one ecstatic and appreciative Mom!
And here’s what we’ll send your Mom – Click here to view what your Mom will receive!
I don’t have any really poignant stories about my Mom, but a while back I read this wonderful story about a Mom and what she did for her son. Please consider this my entry in your contest.
http://heart-touching-love.blogspot.com/2013/01/mothers-love.html
My mom came from Europe after WWII. She grew up eating real bread with various prepared meats. So early on my mother would make me great lunches of fresh crispy pumpernickel just out of the oven the day before, with liverwurst, head-cheese or some other European meat she would get from a nearby European deli, with a nice pickle. Man those were some of the best lunches I had.
But everybody teased me and called me Krautee and other less pleasant names. So eventually I begged my mom to make me Peanut Butter and Jelly and baloney sandwiches with foam bread like everybody else’s, so I wouldn’t get teased and harassed. Well the teasing stopped and name calling ceased, but I could sense my mom was a bit let down making these plain lunches.
As I grew older, I realized how much we’re influenced by peer pressure to do things that we don’t like. Now whenever I visited my mom, I make it a point to come early enough to take her shopping for the makings of her great sandwiches. She makes me a couple for when I leave and often I’ll have one left that I’ll take to work. I’ve grown to the point where I no longer care what others think. But the funny part is now most of my cohorts are envious as what they’re getting from the local high priced delis, isn’t even close to my mom’s l home made sandwiches.
Just goes to show, that often you don’t appreciate what your mother does until later in life and luckly for me, while she’s still here.