For all Mothers, and those who have a Mother…
This for all the mothers who DID and DIDN’T
win Mother of the Year in 1999.
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, 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 made 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.
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? 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
olds dye their hair green.
This is for all the mothers 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
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 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.
Greetings everyone! Been reading the boards here for the last few weeks and I must say it’s been interesting AND entertaining. Name: Michele… Age:34… Location: So Cal. Nice to meet ya!!
