To All The Mothers

To All The 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 o kay 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 purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who DON’T.

This 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 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 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 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 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 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.’

JUST FOR THIS DAY

Just for this morning, I am going to smile whenever I see your face and laugh when I feel like crying.

Just for this morning, I will let you wake up softly, all rumpled in your flannel and I will hold you until you are ready.

Just for this morning, I will let you choose what you want to wear, and smile and say you’re beautiful.

Just for this morning, I am going to step over the laundry, and pick you up and take you to the park to play.

Just for this morning, I am going to eat a huge breakfast, with bacon, eggs, toast and waffles and you don’t have to eat any.

Just for this morning, I will leave the dishes in the sink, and let you teach me how to put that 100 piece puzzle together.

Just for this afternoon, I will unplug the telephone and keep the computer off, and sit with you in the garden blowing bubbles.

Just for this afternoon, I will not yell once, not even a tiny grumble when you scream and whine for the ice cream truck, and I will buy you one if he comes by.

Just for this afternoon, I won’t worry about what you are going to be when you grow up or who you might have been before your diagnosis.

Just for this afternoon, I will let you help me bake cookies, and I won’t stand over you trying to fix things.

Just for this afternoon, I will let you put all kinds of barrettes in my hair, and put lipstick on my face, and I will tell you how pretty you have made me look.

Just for this afternoon, I will take you to McDonalds and buy us both a Happy Meal so you can have both toys.

Just for this evening, I will hold you in my arms and tell you a story about how you were born, and how much we love you.

Just for this evening, I will let you splash in the bathtub and not get angry when you throw water over your sister’s head.

Just for this evening, I will let you stay up late while we sit on the porch swing and count all the stars.

Just for this evening, I will bring you glasses of water and snuggle beside you for three hours and miss my favorite show on t.v.

Just for this evening, when I kneel down to pray, I will simply be grateful for all that I have and not ask for anything, except

Just one more day.