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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