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This is for all the Mom's out there....
Mom's
This is for all the mothers who DIDN'T win Mother of the Year in 1999. All
the runners-up, and all of the "wannabes". The mothers too tired to enter or
too busy to care.
This is for all the mothers who froze their buns off on metal bleachers at
soccer games Friday night instead of watching from cars, so that when their
kids asked, "Did you see my goal?" they could say, "Of course, 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. The
mothers who took those babies and made homes for them.
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 TV's in horror, hugging their child who just came home from
school, safely.
For all the mothers who run carpools, 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, 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?
I think so.
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 mess up. 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 daughters 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 old 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,
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 offspring 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 and 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 â¦
"Home is what catches us when we fall - and we all fall."
Please pass along to all the moms in your life.