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
(grandmothers who 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.
This is for all the step-mothers who
raised another woman's child or
children, and gave their time,
attention, and love... sometimes to
tally unappreciated!
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 a shirt,
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 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. 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. And pray.