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.
This is for all the mothers who froze their buns off on metal bleachers at football 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 a tired 2-year old.
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 up their child. 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 (or purple).
What makes a good Mother anyway?
Is it patience? Compassion?
The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sews 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 their 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?
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, and mothers without.
This is for you all.
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."
