My mother, my hero.

My mother taught me to read even before she taught me to write. I was maybe four or five years old then. I remember her patience in teaching me the alphabet, the vowels and consonants and putting the letters together to form words.

I remember the giant (or so it seemed to a little girl) shelves we had at home, full of books and mags (read: reader’s digest, teacher’s journals) and the countless visual aids and flash cards she painstakingly put together to make learning to read easy for us.

I was already a mother myself in the late 90s when I came across an old book in one of the Book Sale shops I frequent. Printed in 1984 by Dell with a 1983 copyright, I couldn’t put the book down.

What kind of mother would…

…hang up on E.T.?

…tip the tooth fairy?

…wash a measuring cup with soap after it held only water?

A humorous take on motherhood while being perfectly serious about it, I love Motherhood: The Second Oldest Profession by Erma Bombeck. This book reiterates the love of a mother for her children and what she can and will do for them.






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