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To The
Mother's
This is for all the mothers who
froze their buns off on metal bleachers at
football 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
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."
This is for all the mothers of
Kosovo who had to flee in the night and
can't find their children.
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.
For all the mothers
of the victims of the Colorado shooting,
and the mothers of the murderers.
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.
For all the mothers who run
carpools and make cookies and sew
Halloween
costumes.
And all the mothers who
DON'T. 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 school shooting, an earthquake,
a fire, a car accident, a baby dying?
So 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. This is for
reading "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night
for a year. And then reading it again. "Just one
more time."
This is for all the mothers who
yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat
them in despair and stomp their feet like a
tired 2-year old who wants ice cream
before dinner.
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.
For all the mothers who bite
their lips sometimes until they bleed -
when their 14 year olds dye their hair
green.
Who lock themselves in the
bathroom when babies 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.
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 mothers who put
pinwheels and teddy bears on their
children's graves.
This is for mothers whose
children have gone astray, who can't find the
words to reach them.
This is for all the mothers who
sent their sons to school with
stomachaches, assuring them they'd be just FINE
once they got there, only to get calls
from the school nurse an hour later asking
the to please pick them up. Right away!
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 moms in
your life.
"Love is what catches you when
you fall - and we all fall.
If you send this to just one
person, it should make it all the
way
around the world by Mother's
Day.
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