Here's an article dedicated to all mothers, grandmothers,
great grandmothers and those
who have mothered someone (including widowers who have taken care of their
children after their wives' death).
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."
For all 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 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 meant it.
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.
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 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
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
And mature mothers learning to let go. For working mothers and stay-at-home
mothers. Single mothers and married mothers. Mothers with money, mothers
This is for you all. May God bless you!
By Tim Pedrosa