FISHINLADY
04-03-2002, 09:57 AM
This is for all the mothers who have sat up all night with sick
toddlers
> > in
> > > their arms, wiping up barf laced with Kraft dinner and wieners,
birthday
> > > cake, and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's OK honey, Mommy's here."
> > > Who have walked around the house all night with their babies when they
> > kept
> > > crying and wouldn't stop.
> > > This is for all the mothers who have shown 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 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 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.
> > > This is for all the mothers who have frozen their buns off on metal
> > > bleachers at hockey, baseball or soccer games any night of the week
> > instead
> > > of watching from their 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 have yelled at their kids in the
grocery
> > > store and swatted them in despair when they stomped their feet like a
> > tired
> > > 2-year old does, who wants ice cream before dinner, and then hated
> > > themselves for "losing" 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 taught their sons to cook and sew and
> > their
> > > daughters to be brave and strong (and 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 offspring are
> at
> > > home or grown up.
> > > 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. And they do.
> > > This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, and 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 old 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 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?
> > > Or the terror in your heart at 1 AM when your teenager with the new
> > > driver's
> > > license is an hour late getting home.
> > > The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2A.M.
> to
> > > put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby?
> > > Or to feel the dull ache as you look in on your sleeping daughter or
son
> > > the
> > > night before they leave for a college in another city.
> > > 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 the 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 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.
toddlers
> > in
> > > their arms, wiping up barf laced with Kraft dinner and wieners,
birthday
> > > cake, and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's OK honey, Mommy's here."
> > > Who have walked around the house all night with their babies when they
> > kept
> > > crying and wouldn't stop.
> > > This is for all the mothers who have shown 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 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 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.
> > > This is for all the mothers who have frozen their buns off on metal
> > > bleachers at hockey, baseball or soccer games any night of the week
> > instead
> > > of watching from their 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 have yelled at their kids in the
grocery
> > > store and swatted them in despair when they stomped their feet like a
> > tired
> > > 2-year old does, who wants ice cream before dinner, and then hated
> > > themselves for "losing" 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 taught their sons to cook and sew and
> > their
> > > daughters to be brave and strong (and 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 offspring are
> at
> > > home or grown up.
> > > 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. And they do.
> > > This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, and 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 old 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 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?
> > > Or the terror in your heart at 1 AM when your teenager with the new
> > > driver's
> > > license is an hour late getting home.
> > > The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2A.M.
> to
> > > put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby?
> > > Or to feel the dull ache as you look in on your sleeping daughter or
son
> > > the
> > > night before they leave for a college in another city.
> > > 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 the 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 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.