Motherhood

Author: Unknown

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."

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, track meets or soccer 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 yell at their kids in the grocery
store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet like tired
2-year old who wants ice cream before dinner.

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.

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 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.

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 sometimes until they bleed
when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.

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
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.

Please pass along to all the Mom's in your life.

"Home is what catches you when you fall - and we all fall."



HOME


Song- "Right Here Waiting For You"-Richard Marx