MOTHERS and MOMS

If you send this to just one person, it should make

it all the way around the world by Mother's Day.

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 okay 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 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 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 sat down with

their children and explained all about making

babies. And for all the (grand)mothers who

wanted to, but just couldn't find the words.

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 she feels when she

watches her son or daughter disappear

down the street, walking to school alone

for the very first time?

The jolt that takes her from sleep to

dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put

her hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

The panic, years later, that comes again

at 2 A.M. when she just wants to hear

their key in the door and know they

are safe again in her home?

Or the need to flee from wherever she is

and hug her child when she hears 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 for 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 mother...

"Home is what catches you when

you fall - and we all fall."