To All Moms

[admin]

To All Moms:

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."

Those 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 softball games on any given 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 get after 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 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
home.

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.

What makes a good Mother anyway?

Is it patience?

Compassion?

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 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

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