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To Mothers
This is for 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 okay, honey,
Mommy's here."
Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing
crying babies who can't be comforted.
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 purses.
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 the mothers whose priceless art collections are
hanging on their refrigerator doors.
And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal
bleachers at football or soccer games instead of watching
from the warmth of their cars.
And that when their kids asked, "Did you see me, Mom?" they
could say, "Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the
world," and meant it.
This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the
grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their
feet and scream for ice cream before dinner. And for all the
mothers who count to ten instead, but realize how child
abuse happens.
This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children
and explained all about making babies. And for all the
(grand)mothers who wanted to, but just couldn't find the
words.
This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their children
can eat.
For all the mothers who read "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night
for a year. And then read it again. "Just one more time."
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 every mother whose head turns automatically when
a little voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they
know their own offspring are at home -- or even away at
college or have their own families.
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.
This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who
can't find the words to reach them.
For all the mothers who bite their lips until they bleed
when their 14-year-olds dye their hair green.
For all the mothers of the victims of recent school
shootings, and the mothers of those who did the shootings.
For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in
front of their TVs in horror, hugging their children who
just came home from school safely.
This is for all the mothers who taught their children to be
peaceful, and now pray they come home safely from a war.
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 in her 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 panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M. when you
just want to hear their key in the door and know they are
safe again in your home?
Or 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?
The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our thoughts
are 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. For all of us...
Hang in there. In the end we can only do the best we can.
Tell them every day that we love them. And pray and never
stop being a mom.
Please pass along to all the moms in your life.
"Home is what catches you when you fall - and we all fall."
Please pass this to a wonderful mother you know. (I just
did!)
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РЕНТА ГЕГЕМОНА
"я не мальчик" (c)
"Бразилия бывшая Голландская колония, много Голландцев живет там" (Linda Subtle)
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