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To all Mother's
This is for all the mothers who have sat up all night with
sick
toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer
wieners and cherry
Kool-Aid saying, "It's OK honey, Mommy's here." Who walk
around the house all
night with their babies when they keep crying and won't stop.
This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up
in their
hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their
purse. For all the
mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween
costumes.
And all the mothers who DON'T.
This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never
see.
And the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.
This is for all the mothers who froze their buns off on metal
bleachers at football or soccer games Friday night instead of
watching from cars, so
that when their kids asked, "Did you see me?" they could say,
"Of course, I
wouldn't have missed it for the world," and mean it.
This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the
grocery
store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet like
tired 2-year old
who wants ice cream before dinner.
This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children
and
explained all about making babies. And for all the mothers who
wanted to but just
couldn't. For all the mothers who read "Goodnight, Moon" twice
a night
for a year. And then read it again. "Just one more time."
This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie
their
shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers
who
opted for Velcro instead.
This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and
their
daughters to sink a jump shot.
This is for all mothers whose heads turn automatically when a
little
voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they know their own
off spring are
at home.
This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to school with
stomach
aches, assuring them they'd be just FINE once they got there,
only to
get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to
please pick
them up. Right away.
This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can't
find
the words to reach them. For all the mothers who bite their
lips sometimes
until they bleed when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.
What makes a good Mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion?
Broad
hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a
button on shirt, all
at the same time? Or is it heart? Is it the ache you feel when
you watch
your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to
school alone for
the very first time? The jolt that takes you from sleep to
dread, from bed
to crib at 2 A.M.to put your hand on the back of a sleeping
baby? The need
to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear
news of
a fire, a car accident, a child dying?
For all the mothers of the victims of all these school
shootings, and
the mothers of those who did the shooting. For the mothers of
the survivors,
and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror,
hugging their child
who just came home from school, safely.
This is for mothers who put pinwheels and teddy bears on their
children's graves.
This is for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and
sleep
deprivation. And mature mothers learning to let go. For
working mothers
and stay-at-home mothers. Single mothers and married mothers.
Mothers with
money, mothers without. This is for you all. So hang in there.
Please pass along to all the Mom's in your life. Home is what
catches
you when you fall - and we all fall."
Please pass this to a wonderful mother you know. (I just did)
Thank you Susie for sending me this.
My gift to all mothers.
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