http://patents.uspto.gov/web/patents/patog/week39/OG/html/1406-5/US08848479-20140930.html

http://www.highbeam.com/doc/1P3-3447276871.html

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lyz-lenz/how-to-be-the-perfect-mother_b_5653253.html

 In order to be the perfect mother, you must do absolutely everything you can for your kids. But not everything because if you do, then you are setting them up for failure in life and ruining the future of America. Of course, if you don't do everything for them, you are completely selfish. You must also cherish your children completely and always, but don't be smug about it, OK? You must never complain about your child, but if you only say good things, you are not being honest and you are fake. So be honest, but why are you complaining? At least you have kids! You chose to have them, so stop your b*tching. But moms these days are so fake on social media, never being honest about how hard it is to be a parent, so don't do that.
The perfect mother always looks nice and isn't a slob. She takes care of herself. But it's important for mothers to know that they need to stop being so vain and only thinking about themselves. You must dedicate your life to your children, but also have your own sense of self, because what are you? Co-dependent? Work out and be healthy, but don't work out too hard because why would you prioritize that over your own children? So, be careful that you don't get too fat, because you are making America obese and your kids will be fat like you and then, probably, Armageddon. On that note, don't wear a bikini, because only slutty moms do that. But also, model healthy body image to your children, or you are the reason they will fail at life.

You should breastfeed, but only if you can do it in a room quietly and away from everyone. Breast is best, but seriously, no one wants to see your boobs. Only selfish moms use formula, but you should probably just go ahead and use it and stop complaining about breastfeeding. No one wants to talk about your boobs.
Working mothers are wonderful examples of modern womanhood, but they are also incredibly selfish to be putting a career before their children. A good mother never puts her career before her children; she also doesn't ever slack at work. Stay-at-home moms are wonderful and sacrificial, but honestly, get a job lady, because what do you do all day? So, definitely get a job, but honestly, why aren't you watching your own children? Using child care is wonderful -- after all, it takes a village -- but why are you outsourcing your motherhood? Why did you even have children in the first place?
A good mother always puts her partner first, except when she values her children above everything. A good mother also advocates for her child, and is never sanctimonious and pushy. Trust your mom instincts, except you are completely hormonal and irrational and you need medicine.
So, mothers, watch over your children and constantly shield them from the big bad world. Also, never be enabling helicopter parents, who do everything for their children and shield them from the world. Never let your kids quit anything -- they must learn perseverance -- but you should empower them to make their own choices. Children ought to be allowed to choose what to wear, but if your kids aren't wearing perfectly matching Tea Collection outfits, you are a terrible parent. The Tea Collection is ridiculously overpriced. But cheap clothing with characters on it makes your kids a walking billboard for consumerism. Good mothers discipline their children. Spanking is barbaric, time-out is ineffective and I'm calling CPS. Good mothers never yell or get mad. Good mothers show their children that it's OK to yell and get mad sometimes.
Perfect mothers understand how privileged they are to be parenting in America. But the French are doing everything better. So, mothers, be confident in your choices, because you are probably doing everything wrong.

Lucas did this on his own initiative. :) 

From: http://www.mamamia.com.au/parenting/best-years-life-just-arent/

The elderly woman wrapped a warm thin hand around my forearm and leant in close. At first I thought she had stopped to steady herself as she shuffled down the long aisle at Broadway Coles. But with a smile on her lips, she leaned in so our faces nearly touched and said: “These are the best years of your life. They will go quickly. Cherish them. Don’t have regrets.” She gently patted the sling that held the 12-week-old bundle snugged softly against my sore, leaking breasts, nodded firmly and walked away.

It was the first of many times over the following decade that I would be stopped by a stranger and given the same advice. But I’ll never forget that first old lady, because at the time her warning bemused me. “The best years of my life.” Seriously?

I was 21 years old and had found myself 1,000 kilometres away from family and friends, unexpectedly navigating parenthood, university study and work. I wanted to arrogantly scoff “I’m educated, I have ambition, I haven’t slept in two months, I sing nursery rhymes 18 hours a day and I accidentally left the house in my pyjama bottoms this morning – surely this is not as good as it gets!”

But time makes fools of us all. Flip forward 13 years and I’ve just sat down at my desk after seeing my fourth, and last, child off to her first day of school. It’s the end of an era; a great big chunk of my 33 years of living ends today. And the old lady at Coles was goddamn right.

In the years between then and now, I carried four wonderful people, nurtured them, saw their characters develop, independence blossom, talents emerge, vulnerability morph into resilience and ideas become beliefs and opinions.

“Those little things slip through our consciousness and become tiny memory fragments we will never feel, hear or smell again.”

There have also been countless career opportunities passed up. Jobs I’ve stepped away from so my husband could step up to his, without removing both parents from the household from 7am to 7pm. Press releases written with newborns at my breast and toddlers under my desk.

Brainstorms punctuated by nappy changes and playtime. Potential clients turned down because there simply weren’t the hours in the day to give them, and my family, the attention they deserved. And I wondered, hoped, prayed I wouldn’t come out of that period with regrets.

Years later, and the little bundle that lay in the sling that morning at Coles will become a teenager this year, and begin high school next year. I try to conjure her voice at age two; the pitch, the tone, the divine mispronunciations. Those little things slip through our consciousness and become tiny memory fragments we will never feel, hear or smell again.

And so today, no regrets. Sure, I could have earned a bit more money. Could have chased bigger fish. But the times when I tasted that life – missed class presentations, half-cooked meals at 8pm, holidays spent stressing over poor internet connection and missed emails, fights with the husband and kids who fell asleep on the hardwood office floor at night, waiting for me to finish work so I could spend time with them, made me realise I didn’t want what came with it. So like many other women, I down-scaled my career just as it was taking off. Because I knew I could never go back and do this ‘mother’ thing again.

When I was a teenager, schoolbags were plastered with bumper stickers that said “girls can do anything”. Career counselling consisted of lectures about law, medicine, physiotherapy, stockbroking and journalism. Home economics was removed from the curriculum. It would have been considered downright sexist to point out the paradox. Some careers can accommodate the needs of a family better than others; those choices – whether we like it or not – exist. We can do anything. But if we want healthy, happy, satisfying lives – we can’t do it all simultaneously. Man or woman, there are choices, sacrifices and losses down either path.

We do not raise boys or girls to think like this. We don’t educate them to jobshare, downscale, work from home. We raise them to take every opportunity, rise to the occasion, get a bigger office, build a more impressive client list, fulfil their potential. No one mentions what we have to surrender, on the professional or personal front, to do this.

Earlier this month, the girls and I stood by the bed of their deceased 92-year-old great grandmother. As her body lay surrounded by family members, the room was filled with love and gravity. It didn’t matter how much of the planet she had traversed, who she had impressed or how many degrees adorned her office wall.  She had raised sons, grandsons, nursed a dying husband and buried a son.  She had been a community member, friend, devoted great-grandmother, card writer, tennis player, book lover and never forgot a birthday. And in that moment of death, that is all that mattered, that’s all that remained, treasured.

“I can promise you one thing. You will never regret the sacrifices you make for them now.”

Our children are the warmth that we leave in the world long after our own fires are extinguished. The gravity of those early years is hard to imagine when we dream of writing headlines, performing surgery, drafting legislation or publishing books, as opposed to changing nappies, mediating Lego disputes and doing the bedtime routine – but it’s profound.

Once kids start school, they enter a vortex from which they never return to be fully, totally ours again; time with them is negotiated around a timetable of school days, weekends, social lives, activities, term dates and holidays.

And they emerge young adults, with dreams, plans and all those forks in their own roads to navigate. Much of their journey will be done without us. We will never stand by their side as we do in those first five years.

So for those of you fidgeting at home today with a restless baby at the breast, for those who have been interrupted by a toddler 20 times while you read this, I can promise you one thing. You will never regret the sacrifices you make for them now.

It may not be possible to fully appreciate the beauty of this time while you are in the midst of it. But one day, sooner than you can imagine, you will be standing on the other side of this chapter, trying to remember how their skin smelt, how their body felt sitting on your hip, head on your shoulder – and you will be filled with gladness for every moment, good and bad, that you experienced with them.

http://carolynee.net/a-letter-from-a-working-mother-to-a-stay-at-home-mother-and-vice-versa/

Dear Stay-At-Home Mum
Some people have been questioning what you do at home all day. I know what you do. I know because I’m a mum and for a while I did it too. 
I know you do unpaid work, often thankless work, which starts the moment you wake up, and doesn’t even end when you go to sleep. I know you work weekends and nights, with no discernible end to your day or working week. I know the rewards are joyous but few.

I know that you seldom have a hot cup of coffee or tea. I know that your attention is always divided, often diverted from a moment to moment basis, and you cannot ever count on completing a task in the one go. I know that you probably don’t get any down time when you’re on your own at home, unless you have a single child who still naps in the daytime.
I know the challenges you deal with daily, usually with no peer support or backup. The toddler tantrums, the toilet training accidents, the food battles, the food on the floor, the crayons on the wall, the sibling rivalry, the baby that never seems to stop crying. I know how the work seems incessant, like an endless cycle – you shop for food, prepare it, cook it, attempt to feed it to your children, clean it off the floor, wash the dishes, and repeat in three hours.
I know you fantasise about having an hour to yourself to eat your lunch in peace, or about having an afternoon nap. I know you sometimes wonder if it’s all worth it, and feel envious of your friends who are having coffee breaks at work. I know that sometimes when your partner gets home in the evening after his work is done, he wants to put his feet up exactly when you need a break the most, and this can bring you to tears. 
I know that you are misunderstood by so many who do not appreciate the difficulties of caring for small children on your own, all day, and refer to you as joining the “latte set”. They imagine you spend your day sipping coffee while your children play quietly. I know you miss your financial independence. I know you feel amused and sometimes annoyed when others proclaim “TGIF!” because to you every day is the same – there is no Friday, no break from your job. I know that many people do not understand that you work – you simply work an unpaid job at home.

SAHM, I don’t know how you do it. I admire your infinite patience, your ability to face each day cheerfully and bring joy into your children’s lives even when they wear you down. I admire your dedication to being a constant presence in your children’s lives even if it isn’t always easy. I admire the way you work without expecting any reward – no promotions, no fame, no salary. I know you want your children to feel important and loved, and SAHM, you do this the best.
I just wanted you to know that I understand. We’re both mothers. And I know.
Love from the trenches

Working Mum

Dear Working Mum
I know you sometimes get judged by others for leaving your children in the care of others to work. Some people imply that you don’t love your children as much as us SAHMs do, and that it’s best for children to be at home with their mothers.
How can they say this about you? I know you love your children just as much as any other mother. I know that going back to work was no easy decision. You weighed up the pros and cons, long before you conceived a baby. It has always been one of the most important decisions of your life. You thought about this even while you were in high school and were choosing subjects for Grade 11.
I see you everywhere. You are the doctor I take my children to when they are sick. You’re my child’s allergist, the one who diagnosed her peanut allergy. You’re the physiotherapist who treated my husband’s back. You’re the accountant who does our tax returns. My son’s primary school teacher. The director of our childcare centre. My daughter’s gymnastics teacher. The real estate agent who sold our house. What sort of world would it be if you hadn’t been there for us? If you had succumbed to the pressures of those who insisted a mother’s place had to be in the home?

I know you weigh up every job to see if it will suit your family. I know you wake up an hour before everyone else does, just so you can get some exercise done or some quiet time. I know that you have attended meetings after being up all night with your toddler. I know that when you come home in the evening, your “second shift” begins. The nay-sayers don’t understand that you run a household AND hold a job. You come home, cook dinner, bath your children and read them stories. You tuck them in and kiss them goodnight. You pay the bills, do the grocery shopping, the laundry, the dishes, just like every other mother does.
I know that you often feel guilty about having any more time away from your children so you sacrifice your leisure time. I know you can’t bring yourself to take a “day off” for yourself when your children are at daycare. I know you accept that work is your “time off” for now. I know that when you are at work you don’t waste a single minute. I know you eat your lunch at your desk, you don’t go out for coffee, and you show complete dedication and concentration to your job. You chose to be there after all. You want to be there.

I know how discerning you are about who is looking after your children, and that many long daycare centres offer excellent care. I know you only leave your children in a place where you confident they are loved and well looked after. I know that you spend many days caring for your children at home when they are sick, and sacrifice your pay. I know that you secretly enjoy these days, and revel in being able to be with your children.

I know that sometimes you feel guilty about not being there all the time. But WM, I know this. You are setting a wonderful example to your children. You are showing them that a woman can have a career, contribute in some way outside the home, and still be a loving mother. You are showing your daughters that they can do anything they want to do in life. You are displaying strength, endurance, dedication, tenacity, and you do it with so much joy and love.
I just wanted you to know I understand. Because we’re both mothers.
Love from the trenches
Stay-At-Home Mum

Last Thursday, after MH said night prayer, MH asked us if we had anything to add. First, Lucas said “I pray that I won’t bite and lick my lips”. Then he added 2 more things “I pray that I’ll eat dinner faster” and “I pray that I’ll concentrate when I study”. My heart sank a little bit with each of his prayer.  I was fuming mad with him that night on all the 3 things he mentioned.