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 fled
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 ones who were responsible.
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, 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 them 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.
"Home is what catches you when you fall -
and we all fall."