This is for all the mothers
who have ...Sat up all night
with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Kraft
dinner and wieners, birthday cake, and cherry Kool-Aid saying,
"It's OK honey, Mommy's here."
Who have walked around the house all night
with their babies when they kept crying and wouldn't stop.
This is for all the mothers who have shown
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 have run carpools
and made dozens of cookies for school teas and sewn Halloween
costumes. And all the mothers who HAVEN'T because they're at work
trying to keep on top of the bills.
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 and all their love.
This is for all the mothers who have
frozen their buns off on metal bleachers at hockey, baseball or
soccer games any night of the week instead of watching from their
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
meant it.
This is for all the mothers who have
yelled at their kids in the grocery store and swatted them in
despair when they stomped their feet like a tired 2-year old does,
who wants ice cream before dinner, and then hated them- selves for
"losing" it.
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 a ll 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 taught
their sons to cook and sew and their daughters to be brave and
strong (and 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 offspring 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. And
they do.
This is for mothers whose children have
gone astray, and 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 a shirt, all at the same time?
Or is it the 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?
Or the terror in your heart at 1 AM when
your teenager with the new driver's license is an hour late
getting home.
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? Or to feel the dull ache as you look in on your
sleeping daughter or son the night before they leave for a college
in another city.
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
the 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 have tearfully
placed flowers and teddy bears on their children's graves. Whose
children have died from illness, accidents and the worst of all
and hardest to comprehend, suicides.
This is for young mothers stumbling
through diaper changes and sleep deprivation. And mature
mothers who have learned and are still learning, to let go. For
working mothers and stay-at-home mothers. Single mothers and
married mothers. Grandmothers whose wisdom and love remains a
constant for their grown children and their children's children.
For Mothers with money, and Mothers without.
This is for you all. So hang in there.
Submitted by Debbie, Middletown, Md.