How about the mother in The Railway Children, by E Nesbit? Perhaps a bit too good to be true, but someone I felt wanted to do the best for her children, and was prepared to work hard in a dreadful situation without ever losing heart or losing faith. As literary mothers go, she's pretty good!

Mrs. Bennet would have definitely driven me crazy, if she didn't drive me away totally.

Scarlett O'Hara (from the book) has three children and very little to do with any of them. I wish someone would do a spin off novel about them. I remember thinking about them when I was first reading the book and wondering what ever happened to them. Now, her mother on the other hand was a saint; an example of how a 'good mother' doesn't necessarily raise a future 'good mother'.

Oh, Cindy, I know what you mean about Wade Hampton Hamilton and Ella Lorena Kennedy, poor mites, but Scarlett doted on Bonnie Butler, as much as Rhett would let her. Scarlett had her faults as a mother, but think about her response to the Yankee when he tried to take the sword that little Wade inherited from his grandfather.

Scarlett's mother, Ellen Robillard O'Hara, on the other hand was a paragon. Scarlett, Suellen, and Careen were in awe of her, but it always bothered me that she was so good: she was such a sad woman, but she treated Gerald O'Hara with great deference and consideration and he adored her, as did everyone else. Only Mammy knew something of what was in Ellen's mind, though.

Aunt Jane in Eight Cousins and Rose in Bloom was a good mother, unlike one of her sisters-in-law (Aunt Myra?) who wasn't. I don't find Marmee too suffocating given the time period. Remember when she confessed to Jo what a hard time she had overcoming her own temper. The Little Colonel's mother was a wise and loving woman.

No one matches my own mother. Sorry about everyone else.

I like Mrs. Weasley (HP), making the best of what she has, fighting to the teeth when necessary, taking in orphans when needed.

Well, not all stepmothers are wicked:

In I Capture the Castle there's Topaz Mortmain, who at 29 does her damnedest for her eccentric husband and her stepchildren: Rose, age 21, Cassandra, age 17, and Thomas, age 15. Cassandra, especially, has the warmest affections for Topaz, calling her "my dear bogus stepmother."

Jean in Congo Kitabu stated his profound admiration and love for his mother. He didn't find out until he was nearly grown that she was actually his stepmother. To him, "She was the mother I knew."

Then there's Aunt Polly, foster mother to that scamp Tom Sawyer and the insufferable Sid. Gosh, she had her hands full and she wasn't always able to control her wayward charges; but you like her anyway.

frieda, I did forget that scene - but suspect it was more for her that she responded, not for the child. I could be wrong. And yes, she doted on Bonnie, which made the neglect of the other two even sadder.

And Mammy would make a great mother for absolutely anyone

Oh, I agree that not all mothers were wicked. While Marmee would have been too much for my diabetes, I loved Jo as a mother in Jo's Boys and Little Men. Just enough common sense, a sense of humor, and lots of unconditional love. At least when the kids were little; wonder how that worked when hormones kicked in...

>No one matches my own mother. Sorry about everyone else.

I don't doubt it for a minute. My mom was well, less than what I needed growing up, lets just say that.

Cindy, here's the pertinent passage:...when a squad of bearded men came lumbering down the steps, laden with an assortment of stolen articles and she saw Charles' sword in the hands of one, she [Scarlett] did cry out.

That sword was Wade's. It had been his father's and his grandfather's sword and Scarlett had given it to the little boy on his last birthday. They had made quite a ceremony of it [decription of ceremony]. Wade was very proud of it and often climbed upon the table beneath where it hung to pat it. Scarlett could endure seeing her own possessions going out of the house in hateful alien hands but not this -- not her little boy's pride. Wade, peering from the protection of her skirts at the sound of her cry, found speech and courage in a mightly sob. Stretching out one hand he cried:

"Mine!"

"You can't take that!" said Scarlett swiftly, holding out her hand too.

"I can't, hey?" said the little soldier who held it, grinning impudently at her. "Well, I can! It's a Rebel sword!"

"It's -- it's not. It's a Mexican War sword. You can't take it. It's my little boy's. It was his grandfather's! Oh, Captain," she cried, "please make him give it to me."
Often, I think, readers remember Scarlett for her faults -- which she had many. But Scarlett had a good side, too. It was she who held the family together and kept them from starving. One of her lowest points was this:Strained and hungry faces, black and white, were staring at her, mutely asking her to provide food. She would have to risk losing the horse and send Pork out to buy something. And to make matters worse, Wade was ill with a sore throat and a raging fever and there was neither doctor nor medicine for him.She did seem to have neglected the two older children somewhat, but she cared for them -- as I think the above bolsters.

A thing about mothers in books -- novels in particular -- is how often they are absent or don't figure much in the story. I can think of many of my favorite books where the mothers are dead, which I realize was partly because many mothers died young. But sometimes I think mother is left out because it makes a more interesting story -- think of, for example, To Kill a Mockingbird and the Nancy Drew books. Mothers can be troublesome creatures to work into stories. I remember thinking of this aberration when I was a kid and was vexed, and then I read the Trixie Belden books and was relieved to find that she had a very nice mom.

I just thought of another admirable mother, Katie Nolan in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Francie loved her ne'er-do-well father but was ambivalent about Katie, because Katie was strained, abstracted, and undemonstrative. Yet it was Katie who allowed Francie and her brother to have cups of hot coffee to hold until the coffee cooled, then they poured the coffee down the sink. As wasteful as this was in their penury, Katie knew that it comforted her children. Katie scrubbed floors when she was...

Friedag, I agree about a lot of books not having mothers because when I was trying to come up with a 'book mom' I could hardly think of any. Now I am thinking of the works of Collette, her mother sounds wonderful.

One of the most horrendous mothers who comes to my mind is the mother in Janet Fitch's White Oleander. Self-centered to the extreme, unable to put her own wants ahead of the daughter's needs and manipulative beyond belief, out of jealousy she poisons her daughter's relationship with a foster mother whilst in prison for murder.

I, too, think Mrs Weasley is a terrific mom. My role model, perhaps, but I am also lucky to have a terrific mother myself.

Laurie Lee's mother in CIDER WITH ROSIE: disorganised, scatty, funny, loving, loveable - and ultimately rather tragic

I agree that Colette's mother sounds wonderful in EARTHLY PARADISE.

Camille's mother, old Ma Raquin in Zola's THERESE RAQUIN is the typical mother who spoils a son - everyone is fodder and can be sacrificed so long as it keeps him happy.

In life, I wonder if the generations alternate: good mother begats not-so-good mother begats good mother etc. I think girls rebel against their mothers. I also think that a really good, sound man was probably reared by a strong mother. That's my experience. And evil little wimps who go about in the guise of men were cossetted and given in to by an adoring mater totally lacking in judgement. I hear women with their boys in the early years saying, proudly, 'Just look at him! I can't do a thing with him!' (I never had a son, by the way. I've just observed)

Dido

I'd second Frieda's point about an absence of mothers in stories for children. I suppose they get in the way of the adventures and are most unlikely to agree on midnight trips to caves, haunted castles or thieves' lairs.
Enid Blyton, who turned out thousands of books keeps mothers far in the background, good for no more than providing the cream buns and lashings of ginger beer. But ED was not a good mother herself, her daughters had to tiptoe about so not to disturb her writing.
Have any of you read the Elizabeth Enright books? The Melendy children, who have adventures in NY City and the country are motherless and seem able to look after themselves from a very young age.
One real mother who must have been made of true steel was Laura's in the 'Little House . . stories. Caroline Ingalls, and all women like her put up with terrible hardships and in her case lost several babies in the time those books were set.
Having a husband always wanting to move on and seemingly feeling trapped if he could see other dwellings on the horizon cannot make for a secure life.
I had a mother of a restless nature. She found herself 'trapped' by marriage and children and her often uttered saying was "I must get away", disconcerting to us when young. She just wanted to travel (by train or boat even bike) but had no desire to arrive and when she did take a 'break' she was never happy to return home.
In no way were we badly treated. We were fed, watered and clothed but sent away to school at an early age and encouraged from then-on to leave home and be independent.
Perhaps it is an English thing; little physical warmth and a stiff upper lip. Kipling would have approved.

Dido, take it from me girls can be just as 'difficult' as boys . . .if not more so. And you must admit Welsh Mothers have much to answer for pansy-ing round their sons. A Welsh writer tells the story of his first day doing National Service in the Army and having to ask his CO to tie his boot laces . . his Mother's job at home. But bless him, he was only 18 years old.!

Veer-I adore the Enright books-but they did have a mother-figure-the cook/housekeeper/nanny whose name I can't remember-she was wonderful-wise, encouraging, fostering their independence while always demanding their best from them-but a great big cushion when all fell through-remember when Mona visited the beauty parlor? Cuffy. Mrs. Cuthbert, but they called her Cuffy.

Thanks cece, Enright hadn't 'arrived' in the UK when I was growing up so I didn't read these until the DD brought them home from school. Thanks for the reminder. Wasn't there an old 'odd-job-man' cum gardener that drove the station wagon?
Noel Straetfield always had a 'Mother figure' in her children's books, even though there was usually a 'real' slightly feeble mother in the stories; usually someone of the no-nonsense variety with a heart of gold, well-rounded and dressed in sensible tweeds.

Having raised both, I found, in my family, that the DD was more emotional effort than DS-especially in middle school, ages 11-14 or so in this country. Life was either wonderful or horrible-sometimes in the same half-hour. DS was and is much more even-tempered for the most part. My mother-in-law became a very ill, bed-ridden invalid when my S-I-Ls were 13 and 9 years old. My M-I-L was not able to be as much of a part of their lives as she wanted to be-although she welcomed them home each day and spent hours listening to stories, homework, etc., she could not take them shopping, attend their events, PTO meetings, etc.-and had passed away only knowing my DD as a baby and toddler, and one S-I-Ls son as an infant. Both S-I-Ls were and are extremely involved in every facet of their children's lives, although the infant mentioned above has graduated from college and now lives overseas-but when other S-I-L's daughter goes to college next year there will be huge seperation anxiety. On S-I-L's part. We worry. I believe that both have mothered they way they would have been mothered if illness had not interrrupted...and the way they wanted to be. They saw how frustrated their mother was, and how much she fought to still be involved as well as she could. (F-I-L did a yeoman's job of trying to fill in where she couldn't-but a girl needs her mother for some things. Prom gowns, for instance, and wedding gowns...)

Vee,
' . . .you must admit Welsh Mothers have much to answer for pansy-ing round their sons.....'

'A Welsh writer tells the story.....'

Has the incidence of Border raids in your area risen recently, and has Homo Cambrensis been to yours and stolen a leg of beef, for him to be maligned so by you? Or is it just that we trounced you at the rugby recently? Because I didn't mention 'Welsh' at all, in my last posting, so wondered why you brought it up.

Nor did I say that girls were more 'difficult' than boys to rear. I made 2 separate comments, one on girls and one on boys. Well, I I thought I did. Perhaps I should have paragraphed them separately.

Dido

I can think of 2 literary mothers whom I distinctly would NOT wish to have: Anna Karenina and Miss Jean Brodie!

On the other hand, I always thought Miss Potter would have made a charming mother.

One of my more vivid images of an English "country" wife and mother is the mother of Dickon in "The Secret Garden." I like the way she interacted with Mary and Colin.

I think Martin has beat me to the "ideal" mother, with his post. I, too, was so taken with the mother of "The Railway Children, " in Nesbit's novel.

Amelia Peabody is, in her own mind at least, the perfect mother. The fact that her family remains gathered near her even in adulthood, perhaps reinforces her belief! They did all get very good at letting her talk and then doing what they wanted to anyway!

Harriet Vane, although she features prominently in several of Dorothy Sayers' books, is only seen as a mother to Peter Wimsey's three sons in a few late short stories, but seems to have taken to the job. No doubt Bunter took her in hand and taught her the ropes-there is nothing that man can't turn his hand to. I always loved both Peter's and Roderick Alleyn (Ngaio Marsh) mothers, too...grounded aristocrats who meddled to good effect when it would do the most good. Neither of their sons would have won fair maiden without mother stepping in to assure said "middle class" young lady that she would be welcomed with open arms by the "family."

However, for the perfect mother, I nominate Jeeves.

To Whom it May Concern: Dido lives about 60 miles from me as the dragon flies (much further by road) and I can smell the sulphur from its nostrils even as I cringe at the cruel onslaught. And there's me thinking the evil little wimps were the sons of the women D mentions hearing.

I forgot to wish you a happy St David's Day didn't I?

Am I misremembering, or are you sisters? I know Vee is sister to someone else who posts...

It's Paula (rosefolly) and Rouan (sp) who are sisters. I don't have any sisters!

Aye, Vee, forsooth, and next year I want libation (actually, please don't throw it on the earth - just cast it in my direction, bottle at a time - Carefully....) and congratulation to us on the 1st - the Calends (NOT the Ides, as someone thought mistakenly on another thread) ie, Dydd Dewi Sant. Then I won't send Fy Draid Goch in your direction, nostrils flaring, fire-spouting, wings akimbo - I mean - bless me, I couldn't stop him! He was agonner! (actually, he's a pussy-cat, really...... Do you watch 'Dog Borstal'?)

D.

A year or two ago, I read a book that had me wishing I had a mother like that. I told my daughter the wish when I passed the book along to her. Since she couldn't quite say the same thing to me when she finished it, she did say that she could totally understand me saying that. Hmmm...wish I could remember what the books was!

I always thought Betty Bard MacD's Gammy (paternal grandmother) would've been a hoot to know. Pondering the likelihood of Gammy ever having a secret love life and a second husband, Betty wrote:To the casual eyes...this idea might have been plausible, as Gammy was a very pretty woman, small with large blue eyes, delicate regular features and tinselly curly hair. But to those of us who knew her there were several good reasons why this wouldn't, couldn't be.

In the first place Gammy hated men -- all men, except Daddy. "Just like some big stinkin' Man," she would sneer...

In the second place, any lover of Gammy's would have had to equip himself with enduring desire and a bowie knife, for Gammy was well covered. She thought nakedness was a sin and warned us, "Don't let me catch you running around in your naked strip!"
Among the many layers of armor Gammy wore were "a corset cover, [an] upside-down corset with the bust part fitting snugly over the hips, and at long last 'chimaloons.'"In the third place, a lover of Gammy's certainly would have had a lumpy couch with her nightgowns, bed jackets and several extra suits of "chimaloons" folded under the pillow, her Bible tucked under the sheet at the top right-hand side, any book she happened to be reading tucked under the sheet on the other side, little bags of candy, an apple or two, current magazines, numerous sachets and her bottle of camphor just tucked under the blankets or scattered under the pillows within easy reach. We children thought this an ideal arrangement, for when we were lonely or frightened Gammy's bed was as comforting as a crowded country store.Gammy lived en residence with her only son's family even after he died. Betty's mother, Sidney Bard, seems to have accepted her quirky mother-in-law with grace and good humor, and probably even loved the daffy old lady. Can you imagine how rare that kind of relationship would have been then...and even more so nowadays?

Another book/series with a grandmother character is The Children of Green Knowe by Lucy Boston. Based on her own East Anglian house which dates back to the eleven hundreds and lived in by an elderly woman (LB?) it is filled with the spirits of children from the past and future. Granny Oldknow is a wise and kind figure and a refuge for her small relation Tolly who comes to live with her. There are several more in the series. Highly recommended.

In this neck-of-the-woods, rather 'blue-collar', not many jobs or much money it is quite common for grandparents to live with or close by their extended families. They act as unpaid baby-sitters, child spoilers and treat-givers . . . and the sun always shines from every known orifice of those kids.
Don't you think that grandparents can add so much more to a child's life?
My own Mother moved in with us when her sight was failing and was 'entertained' by our youngest and not very bright son.
She told him stories of "When I was your age" and "the olden days"
He took these very much to heart and one day I overheard them chatting.
Granny had obviously taken the 'good-old days' theme to excess and he was asking "Did they have cows in your day Granny?"
"Yes, of course they did."
"And sheep?"
"And grass?"
"What about sky? Was there sky when you were little?"
"That is quite enough from you, you silly boy!"

One day he had obviously gone too far and we heard her say "You are a very rude little boy" to which he replied "And you are a very rude old lady."
Of course we had to step in and make him apologies but it was difficult to keep a straight face.

Here is a link that might be useful: Lucy Boston

Motherhood is the most difficult and rewarding experience you will ever be blessed by.

The joys are balanced in kind with the sorrows.

It is the best part of my life....that and Grandmotherhood.

I only hope , when all the dust is settled, that they each will remember how very much I have loved them......and forget my shortcomings.

I have had this little piece on my bulletin board for 40 years and it still makes me sigh:

I'D RATHER

I'd rather be a mother
Than anyone on earth--
Bring up a child or two
Of unpretentious birth.

I'd rather tuck a little child
All safe and sound in bed--
Than twine a chain of diamonds
About my foolish head.

I'd rather wash a smudgy face
With round, bright baby eyes--
Than paint the pageantry of fame,
Or walk among the wise.

>Don't you think that grandparents can add so much more to a child's life?

Oh, yes... Vee! I very much agree that grandparents can enrich the lives of children they interact with (whether it is their own, or surrogates). I didn't have much contact with my grandparents growing up, and I often felt like I missed out on so much because of it. My mother wasn't speaking to my Dad's parents by the time I came along, so we got the obligatory card or two and saw them for a few hours at Christmas, and that was it. My maternal grandmother was still alive as I was growing up, but I don't ever remember doing anything with her -- just sitting by silently listening to her and Mom talk like the quiet, obedient child I was expected to be. I do remember her for her quilting and sewing projects, though. She was always making something.

My own parents are deceased now, but I'm delighted that my MIL actually loves fostering a relationship with my children. She enjoys taking them places and doing all sorts of things with them and getting to know them as little persons. I think it's important, even though she can aggravate me with her meddling sometimes.

Of course, in some urban households, you see the opposite happening -- grandparents raising their grandchildren because their own children refuse to take responsibility. That is equally sad.

As for literary mothers, I found myself thinking of Caroline Ingalls as a very realistic mother, and I had always imagined - if she had lived - Bonnie Butler growing up to be as stubborn and spoiled as her mother, Scarlett. Have you ever noticed, in real life and in literature, there is always that household that attracts all the children in the neighborhood and the woman of the household develops a relationship with every one of those kids? I can remember a few of those types growing up, too.

I had/have one of those households where everyone seems to congregate. Sometimes my husband wishes they would all go away but usually we like having them around. So many of our teenagers friends parents have the attitude, "why don't you kids go somewhere else and do something?" Hm, what do you think they'll do if you kick them out without a plan? At least we know where our kids are and what and who they are with. very sad. We also have our 23 year old daughter and her son living with us because the daddy walked out the door and never came back so she is trying to finish college and get a career to support the two of them.

Sometimes it's a bit noisy and crazy around here but I am trying to live each moment. We all like having a little one around the house, even my teenagers. I try not to meddle in the raising of my grandson and I think I am succeeding- I try to do things the way she wants.

So back to the topic, I think that's why I like Mrs. Weasley because I feel I have a kindred spirit in her. And in a lot of ways our house is just as cluttered and crazy as hers!

Here are the lyrics to one of my favorite lullabies ~

I Have You

Connie Kaldor © SOCAN

Some have furs and fancy cars
But I have you, I have you
Some have silk and caviar
But I have you, I have you
Some have emeralds set in gold
But none can sit and rock and hold you
Like I do, like I do, like I do

Some have lace and diamonds rings
But I have you, I have you
They always have the latest things
But I have you, I have you
Some are always dressed in style
But they will never catch your smile
Like I do, like I do, like I do

Some have homes on the finest streets
But I have you, I have you
The finest leather on their feet
But I have you, I have you
Some have wine and a castle keep
But they can't watch you drift asleep
Like I do, like I do, like I do

Thyrkas.......ooooh, that is just beautiful.

It reminds me of my absolute favorite CD to give new mothers, SLEEP, BABY, SLEEP by Nicolette Larson .

From a review:
But there's a simple reason for this CD's quietude, its floating gentleness: Larson writes in the liner notes that she wrote the songs as she sat by her daughter Elsie May's hospital bed as her daughter recovered. The music had to be all gentle and nonintrusive, and that's how it comes across. This is a great disc to spin as you rock the newborn. Larson's voice peeks out exceptionally as she covers an unreleased Neil Young tune ("Barefoot Floors") and presents a tender reading of "I Bid You Goodnight." Persistently fine layers of accordion and bowed cello give the keyboard-laden environments surprising warmth.

You can listen to some of the tunes if you follow this link.
They are just lovely.

Here is a link that might be useful: SLEEP, BABY, SLEEP

Yoyobon, I loved your poem and have sent it to my sister, my daughter, and two nieces.

Here is one I may have posted before:

THE READING MOTHER
Strickland Gillilan

I had a mother who read to me,
Sagas of pirates who scoured the sea,
Cutlasses clenched in their yellow teeth,
"Blackbirds" stowed in the hold beneath.

I had a mother who read me lays,
Of ancient and gallant and golden days.
Stories of Marmion and Ivanhoe,
Which every boy has a right to know.

I had a mother who read me things,
That wholesome life to the boy heart bringsÂ
Stories that stir with an upward touch,
Oh, that each mother of boys were such!

You may have tangible wealth untold;
Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold,
Richer than I, you can never be.
I had a mother who read to me.

My daughter wasn't able to have children and adopted a wonderful baby boy. I found this for her:

LEGACY OF AN ADOPTED CHILD

Once there were two women who never knew each other
One you do not remember; the other you call Mother
Two different lives shaped to make you one
One became your guiding star; the other became your sun
The first one gave you life, and the second taught you to live it
The first gave you a need for love; the second was there to give it
One gave you a nationality; the other gave you a name
One gave you a talent; the other gave you aim
One gave you emotions; the other calmed your fears
One saw your first sweet smile; the other dried your tears
One sought for you a home that she could not provide
The other prayed for a child, and her hope was not denied
And now you ask me through your tears
The age-old question unanswered through the years
Heredity or environment--which are you a product of
Neither, my darling; neither
Just two different kinds of love

And another for good measure:

SONG FOR A FIFTH CHILD
Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Mother, oh mother, come shake out your cloth!
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking!

Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullalby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

Oh, cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
But children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust, go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep.

I have made a copy of that last poem, framed it, and given it to many new moms. Its so sweet.

Nice poems, Carolyn!