This is for 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 okay honey,
Mommy's here." who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end
soothing crying babies who can't be comforted.
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 the mothers whose priceless art collections are
hanging on their refrigerator doors.
And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal
bleachers at football or soccer games instead of watching
from the warmth of their cars, so that when their kids
asked,Did you see me, Mom?" 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 and scream for ice cream before dinner. And for all
the mothers who count to ten instead, but realize how child
abuse happens.
This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children
and explained all about making babies. And for all the (grand)
motherswho wanted to, but just couldn't find the words.
This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their
children can eat.
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 every mother whose head turns automatically
when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they
know their own offspring are at home -- or even away at
college.
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
until they bleed
when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.
For all the mothers of the victims of recent 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 all the mothers who taught their children to be
peaceful, and now pray they come home safely from a war.
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 ashirt, all at the same time?
Or is it in her 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 panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M. When you
just want to hear their key in the door and know they are
safe again in your home?
Or 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?
The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our thoughts
are for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and
sleepdeprivation...
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. For all of us. Hang in there. In the end
we can only do the best we can.
Tell them every day that we love them.