Five essays on my mother’s diary

A diary is a kind of date-ordered notes for personal use. In the beginning, diaries were used to record business. Later, people used diaries to record weather, events, and personal psychological feelings and deep thoughts. Here I would like to share with you some diary compositions about my mother, welcome to read!

Diary composition about my mother 1

The poet Wang Guozhen wrote in "Mother" In the poem "Love", he wrote: "We also love our mother, but it is different from how our mother loves us. Our love is a stream, and mother's love is the ocean." Yes, at all times and in all over the world, who's growth is not soaked in What about my mother's meticulous love?

From the time I can remember, I have been saving fragments of one kind or another in my mind. Among these fragments, only those stories about maternal love remain fresh in my memory.

There is a small thing that I will never forget for a long time. It was one morning. My mother got up very early and helped me find the clothes I wanted to wear that day, fold them and put them away. Then, my mother gently walked into the dining room, made me a glass of honey water, and put it on the table. My mother seemed not to be idle for a minute, and immediately started making breakfast. The alarm clock rang. When I woke up, I looked at the neatly folded clothes on the bed, then at the steaming honey water and sumptuous breakfast on the dining table, and a warm current of love surged through my heart. After washing up, I sat at the dining table and suddenly noticed that my mother seemed much older and had dark circles around her eyes. I was about to say something, but was interrupted by my mother: "Mom boiled the eggs today. You eat first." This one isn't rotten, let's eat it, mom." I lowered my head and didn't say anything. I picked up the rotten egg and started eating it. Mom was stunned for a moment, then smiled happily. She peeled the non-rotten egg and placed it in front of me. Then she sat opposite me, smiling and watching me finish my breakfast bit by bit with loving eyes. Later, I heard from my father that my mother came back very late from working overtime the night before. But my mother, despite being tired, still got up early the next day, just to let me sleep a little longer.

Once, I fell ill and felt very uncomfortable. My mother saw it and hurriedly drove me to the hospital. On the way, I felt very cold, so my mother took off her coat and put it on me. I said, "You gave me your clothes, so aren't you cold?" Mom smiled and said, "What's the point? Mom is an adult, and her resistance is much stronger than yours. Pull up the zipper, Tell me if it's still cold." I lowered my head and deeply felt the warmth of maternal love. After arriving at the hospital, my mother hugged me tightly. Inadvertently, I touched my mother's hand. Oh my god, it was so cold, I almost froze! I said to my mother: "Mom, if you are cold, you'd better put on some clothes! I'm wearing quite thick clothes." But my mother didn't speak. She silently helped me straighten the collar of my clothes and hugged me tightly again. I stopped talking and hugged my mother tightly, hoping to use my warmth to warm her.

Whenever I think of this, waves of emotions surge up in my heart, and I understand the delicacy and eternity of maternal love.

Not long ago, the teacher assigned us a special task to say "I love you" to parents. After receiving the task, I felt a little uneasy. I didn't know how to say "I love you".

After I got home, I pulled my mother into the room and wanted to say those three words that had been rehearsed in my heart countless times. However, every time I wanted to speak, I always felt like my words were being suppressed and couldn't come out. My face started to turn red and my heartbeat started to speed up... I tried to calm myself down. Suddenly, I thought of my mother's usual care for me. Just like that, I mustered up the courage. After taking a few deep breaths, I finally said loudly to my mother. : "Mom, I love you!" My mother chuckled, her eyes full of relief and satisfaction. She patted me gently and said, "Son, my mother loves you too! My mother has raised you for 12 years. As long as you have This sentence is enough!" It can be seen that the mother's face is full of happiness. I hurriedly ran out of the house, feeling as if I had knocked over a five-flavor bottle. I felt an indescribable feeling.

A mother’s selfless dedication to her children is broader than the blue sky and deeper than the sea. A child, on the other hand, often only needs a greeting, an intimate gesture, and a perfect score to make his mother extremely satisfied. The greatness of maternal love is the sublimation of love in life, which we will never forget. Here, I want to say, loudly: "Mom, I love you!"

Writing my mother's diary composition 2

I am an ox, but my mother said I am more of a "monkey". When I was a child, I was very naughty and always loved to play some games that boys love to play. I can climb walls, climb trees, and slingshot. But my mother doesn’t like me like this, saying that other people’s little girls like dolls and the like, but you like knives, guns and the like.

Once I went climbing a tree with a group of boys. I was competing with them. When I turned around, I saw a person behind a tree. When I looked carefully, it was my mother. I didn't care at all and continued climbing. But they have fallen far behind me. I was so eager to win that I accidentally stepped on a branch and fell. My mother ran over quickly, hugged me and asked me where I fell... From then on, whenever I climbed, my mother would let my butt have a close contact with my feather duster.

Now I don’t remember how many times I was beaten. I have also become what my mother calls a ‘good girl’. I also gradually fell in love with stuffed animals.

Later, my mother gave birth to a little brother, and her thoughts were no longer entirely on me.

Gradually, I went to middle school, and my younger brother also went to elementary school. My mother found a job and worked from dawn to dusk every day. I also started to study hard.

My mother is a careful and knowledgeable person who uses waste. All the old clothes, pants and socks we don’t use can be used. Turn old clothes into chair cushions and slippers... which are both beautiful and practical. The pants can be made into sleeves, insoles...all very beautiful. The little socks were made into various little dolls for me, which I still collect today. But I always laugh at her for being too careful and stingy. But my mother is only stingy with herself.

My mother always puts you two at the center of everything. When I go to work, I stay awake even if I am hungry, and I am never willing to spend one yuan to buy a piece of bread. Even if I bought something and put it in her pocket, I would take it away intact and bring it back intact. Sometimes I say to her: "You are so stupid!" Mom just smiles. I know what my mother thinks. She wants me to eat less and my children to eat more...

This is my ordinary and great mother! I love this my mother deeply! < /p>

Writing about my mother’s diary composition 3

The moon on the 15th was particularly round, and a newborn was born under the care of the moon...

His birth It brought great joy to this family and was a perfect touch for this family. In the crowd, a woman sat there quietly, her eyes never leaving the sleeping child.

Later, her life changed drastically, from being one person to two people, in order to survive. For the sake of his child, she resolutely took the first heavy step. After all, this was her first time working. She encountered many setbacks, and he learned to be strong through the ordeal.

The sunshine is selfish. He brought hope to the earth but forgot about her struggling in the darkness. But she did not give up. No matter how difficult her life was, she gritted her teeth and endured it for her children. ...

The difficult years are always endless. She cried hard every day, and her heart was wetted. He picked up her child, and the hot tears on his cheeks wetted his child again. face... She was silent because she was laid off. The most realistic problem was placed nakedly in front of her, which stung her heart severely... The tight life became her biggest stumbling block. She never gave up. In order to survive, she raised money everywhere and owed a lot of debt.

As time goes by, the children grow older, she gets older, and her life becomes richer in the new century, but she still works non-stop... The child stood in the corner and stared at her, shadowy. Seeing a few silver strands in her hair, tears immediately filled her eyes, and waves of inexplicable sourness came to my heart...

Looking back at the past days, she saw the thorns along the way, every step she took. It is so heavy that only the traces of history are left. History will never repeat itself. The hardships have become a thing of the past. The only thing standing in front of her is the future. In front of the future, she retains the original hardship and simplicity. After all, she has gone through many vicissitudes of life. ...

Flowers bloom, flowers wither, time is not forgiving, her face is full of vicissitudes, she is my mother.

Writing about my mother’s diary composition 4

I have been away from home for a long time and I feel homesick. In this bustling and noisy city, I no longer see the vast wilderness and the quietly flowing lake of my hometown. Only busyness and fame and fortune occupy my originally peaceful heart. Whenever it is a dark night, the moon casts its bright light, which always arouses my homesickness: I miss the bright full moon in my hometown, the quiet lake in my hometown, and my dear mother in my hometown!

My mother’s hometown is her whole life, and I am the only one in his heart. My family is on the bank of Hongze Lake, so I naturally make a living by fishing and farming. Parents always get up very early. They hurriedly eat some cakes and drink some tea, put on their leather boots, carry fishing tools, and set out before dawn. Sometimes I would be woken up from my sleep to help them get something. On the winding path, I always walked between my parents, because I was afraid of the legendary "ghost". Listening to the chirping of insects in the weeds on the roadside and looking at the bright stars in the sky, I felt very peaceful. The gentle wind carries the scent of the lake, giving me a refreshing feeling. The sound of the boat broke the pre-dawn silence. I watched the boat gradually go away.

In hot summer, the sun shines brightly at noon. The earth was heated by the sun. The green leaves of the crops are all rolled up. Other people's parents were enjoying the cool air at home, but my parents were still in the lake and had not come back. Day after day, year after year, her skin became darker. The wrinkles are deeper. In silence, she lost her girlish glory. She doesn't do it for anything else, just for me in life, for this not-rich family!

I don't know how deep the sea is and how high the mountain is. I only know that the wrinkles on my mother’s face are as deep as the ocean, and the back of my mother is as high as a mountain!

I have a younger sister, but she is taller than me. My mother is always playing with us. When she asked us to study, she said: "If you want to live a good life, only by studying hard can you change your destiny.

"Her words are always repeated over and over again, but many times, we feel bored. Mother does not have philosophical language, but she can't stop nagging to express her love for us!

Every time my mother comes back from shopping, she always gives me more and my sister less. Therefore, my sister often says: "My mother is partial and favors sons over daughters." "I also agree, maybe this is the old thought left over from the old society. It is really difficult to change the deep-rooted thought.

Now, I have left the hometown where I was born and raised, and left the place where I was born and raised. My mother who has worked hard all her life. Maybe I will fly higher and go farther in the future, but no matter how high I fly, I will still carry my mother’s love; no matter how far I go, I will still retain the atmosphere of my hometown.

In the dream of my city, there is my hometown, and in the dream of my hometown, there is my mother; there is endless sweat and endless love on my mother’s body!

< p> Writing about my mother's diary composition 5

As the sun sets, the smoke rises again. Whose heavy sigh floats into a melancholy rhyme?

I burst into tears. The gray blue shirt has long been soaked in the dust of the years. There is no trace of the stitches that my mother made before leaving. A few fallen threads are covered in the dust.

My hair is like frost, and I am filled with tears. Just a tired traveler from the end of the world. Covered in the setting sun, dreaming of returning to my hometown where the flowers are blooming. Under the yellow light, my mother's ups and downs are the postures I am most familiar with.

Pure sunshine. Passing through the fence, my mother's loving face was reflected, as warm as a flag. The mother, stained by firewood smoke, dedicated her life's blood and tears to the land, and sent away the plump ears of rice one after another. Then tell the old stories of the farm, along with those pale memories, to the land. The color of the country is very dark. After the mother planted the sweat, it has the mind and tolerance to nurture everything and collect everything.

Mother. Pick up a strong hoe and sow hope in the dark soil. At the end of the year, there are heavy rice ears held high above my mother's head, shining with moving glory. My mother stands in the crisp autumn weather, watching the thin granary become full. . The mother smiled, and the glory of her heyday was faintly visible on her bronze face.

On a clear moonlit night, my mother lit a lamp and sewed trivial farm chores into her clothes one by one. . Densely knitting together the simple days, year after year.

Before leaving, my mother finally packed my baggage, which was full of reminders in the local accent. When I got to the lamp, I picked up the blue shirt again. The bright and clean blue shirt was sewed with my mother's attachment and love.

The stars were like frost, and I went on the road wearing this blue shirt. . The mother was leaning against the old house, fearing that she would be late to return. In the end, only the west wind and the thin horse were left in her eyes.

The twilight fell, and the dormant stars woke up, but there was no moonlight like water. Now that I have been traveling in a foreign country for many years, my mother calls to the tomb in the distance on my uncertain return. With premature aging of my temples, I seem to see another frame of desolate back.

Groping for the dusty local accent, my chapped lips uttered the first sound of human chaos: Mother!

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