For All Mothers
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 a 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 ho! me.
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 a 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 &! gt; 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."
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