This is for all mothers . . . . (and for all children of mothers . . . . )
This is for all the mothers who have paced the house all night with a baby who wouldn’t stop crying . . . . who have shown up at work with spit-up in their hair, milk stains on their blouses, and diapers in their purse . . . .who have sat up all night with a sick toddler in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Kraft Dinner, wieners, birthday cake, and cherry Kool-Aid, saying, "It's okay, Honey. Mommy's here".
This is for all the mothers who have yelled at their kids in the grocery store and swatted them in despair when they stomped their angry little feet (like tired 2-year olds who wants ice cream before dinner do), and then hated themselves for "losing it”.. . . . For all the mothers who have read "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year. . . .and then read it again . . "just one more time, please, Mommy . . . ".
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. . . . For all the mothers who have run carpools and made dozens of cookies for school teas and sewn Halloween costumes. . . . and all the mothers who haven’t, because they're at work, trying to keep on top of the bills.
This is for all the mothers who have sent their child to school with a stomach-ache, (“You’ll be just fine once you get there!”), only to get a call from the school nurse an hour later, asking them to please come and pick the sick child up right away . . . and they did.
This is for all the mothers who have frozen their buns off on cold metal bleachers at countless hockey/baseball/soccer games night after night (instead of watching the game from a warm comfortable car) so that when their kid asked, "Did you see me?" they could say, "Of course I did; I wouldn't have missed it for the world!" and meant it.
This is for all the mothers whose heads turned automatically when a little voice called "Mom???" in a crowd, even though they knew their own offspring were at home.
This is for all the mothers who taught their sons to cook and clean and sew ( and cry) and taught their daughters to be ambitious and brave and strong (and sink a jump shot).
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.
This is for all the mothers whose children have gone astray, and who can't find the words to reach them. 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 and all their love.
What makes a good mother anyway?
Is it patience?
Is it compassion?
Is it broad hips?
Is it the ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the
same time?
Or is it the 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 find and hug your child when you hear news of a fire, a car accident, a child dying? . . . .or the terror in your heart at 1 a.m. when your teenager with the new driver's license is an hour late getting home?. . . or feeling the dull ache as you look in on your sleeping daughter or son the night before they leave for a college in another city?
This is for all the mothers of the victims of school shootings, and the mothers of those who did the shooting. . . . for the mothers of the survivors on the scene, 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 have tearfully placed flowers and teddy bears on their children's graves.. . . .whose children have died from illness, accidents, and the worst of all and hardest to comprehend, suicides.
This is for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation . . . and mature mothers who have learned . . . and are still learning . . . to let go . . . for working mothers and stay-at-home mothers . . . single mothers and married mothers . . . grandmothers whose wisdom and love remains a constant for their grown children and their children's children . . . for mothers with money, and mothers without.
This is a tribute to every mother.
This is for you all.
Virginia Satir said
“The family is the microcosm of the world . . . To change the world is to change the family”.
You are involved in the most important job in the world . . . .
Peoplemaking !
Nothing you do in your life will ever be as important.
