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.  And sometimes

cry with them.


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 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 who wants ice cream before
 dinner.


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 start 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.

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.


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 time? 


Or watching them walking down the aisle, with your heart

in their pocket?


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 deprivation.


And mature mothers learning to let go...and stumbling

around  the house in the middle of the night looking for

children who have spread their wings into the world far

from home.


For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.


Single mothers and married mothers.


Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all.
Author Unknown


Have a Blessing Filled Mother's Day!!!