Its almost Mothers Day

[sandie]

This is for all the mothers who froze their
buns off on metal bleachers at football
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 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."

This is for all the mothers of Kosovo who
fled in the night and can't find their children.

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.

For all the mothers of the victims of the
Colorado shooting, and the mothers of the
ones who were responsible.

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.

For all the mothers who run carpools and
make cookies and sew Halloween costumes.
And all the mothers who DON'T.

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?
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 school shooting, a fire, a car accident, a
baby dying?
So 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 reading "Goodnight, Moon" twice
a night for a year. And then reading it again.
"Just one more time."

This is for all the mothers Who yell at their
kids in the grocery store and swat them in
despair and stomp their feet like a tired 2-year
old who wants ice cream before dinner.

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 bite their lips
sometimes until they bleed - when their 14
year olds dye their hair green. Who lock
themselves in the bathroom when babies
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.

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 mothers who put pinwheels and
teddy bears on their children's graves.

This is for mothers whose children have gone
astray, who can't find the words to reach them.

This is for all the mothers who sent their sons
to school with stomachaches, 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 young mothers stumbling through
diaper changes and sleep deprivation.

And 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.

So hang in there.

Please pass along to all the moms in your life.

"Home is what catches you when you? fall -
and we all fall."

 

[donna]

Sandie,

I couldn't have said it better. What a great verse!

 

[swalker]

Because I am sharing my birthday with my mom this year, (May 13th is my b-day and mothers day

) Here is another one for all of the fabulouse mothers out there...

FOR ALL MOMS (PRESENT, PAST OR POSSIBLY FUTURE) (For Dad's too!)

We are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family."
"We're taking a survey," she says, half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"
"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.
"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations...."
But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.
I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking " What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.
I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub.
That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a soufflÃ[emoji]169[/emoji] or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation.
I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell,
She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.
I want my daughter to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of
independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.
However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.
Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save
her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years --not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.
I want her to know that a caesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how
much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.
I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.
I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's future.
I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the first time.
I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts. My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes.
You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reach across the table,squeeze my daughter's hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings. This blessed gift from God . . . that of being a
Mother.

Author Unknown--"
LOVE is not LOVE until you give it away.

 

[mr. cat]

I wish you were still here, so I could say "I love you, Mom" to you in person. I wish you were still here, so I could take you out to dinner at your favorite restaurant. But I think you can hear my thoughts; and that, at least, will suffice until we meet again.

Love,

Joe

=^..^=

 

[threeleggedkat]

Like you, Joe, I cannot thank my Mom in person anymore, but I know that she knew and still knows how much I love her and miss her everyday. The nicest thing anyone ever said to me was that I am so much like my Mom it is uncanny. Not true, for she was the most talented, beautiful and loving person who ever lived. I know we don't get to choose who our parents are, but I sure got lucky!

 

[airprincess]

I feel the same way about my mother who has passed. I grieve everyday that she suffered like she did. I try to forget mothers day the holiday because it is just too painful. for me everyday is mothers day.

 

[threeleggedkat]

Thank God, Mothers' Day now has a beautiful new meaning for me as my precious niece, Dorothy is a new mother and, since I had a hand in raising her, It's like I'm a Grandmother sort of. . . . . I know she will be a great Mother and we are all blessed by baby Aidan.

 

[Anne]

What a beautiful thread! Makes me think about my mom and hubby's mom and all the heartache we must have given them. Not on purpose, but just risking yourself and doing stupid things.

 

[debby]

I hate mothers day....it is one of my worst days out of the year....I hate to be so negative, but since you are all my friends here, I feel I can be honest.

I hate mothers day because my mother is gone, and because I have never been a mother myself, and because it is the one day I am reminded of all the things I do for my stepchildren all year that go totally unnoticed.


Sorry.

 

[swalker]

Ahh Debby... I am sorry. I can understand how you feel and probably many other people do on this day every year.

I appreciate you, and all of your wisdom and kidness and your heart of gold. I hope someday your step children will realize they shouldn't take you for granted. I know I don't know you well at all, but I feel like I know little bits and pieces and well... the good days with the bad one's I think you are terrific

 

[debby]

Thank you so much for your kindness, swalker. Guess i was a bit crabby today.

And it isn't ever the kids that take me for granted for what I do for them..it is their father.

 

[donna]

Debby,

I can understand how you feel. My mom has been gone for 28 years now (she died when I was 18). I never got to say goodbye to her either. Every mother's day I try not to have a pity party about it but it's difficult when you go places where there are so many other kids and moms celebrating. I go to the cemetery with a blanket, lunch, pictures, my memories and flowers. When my mom was so ill with cancer and she and my dad picked out their "plot", she joked that it was near the road. "If you're in the neighborhood and want to stop and say hi, fine, if not just drive by and throw the flowers out the window," she used to tell us. She never once lost her sense of humor. My only regret is that she never got to meet my daughter Amy who looks so much like her.

Happy Mother's Day Mom. I love you!

[Edited by donna on 04-30-2001 at 06:54 PM]

 

[debby]

Oh Donna....thank you for your post.....I wish I could give you a hug right now. Your mother sounds like my dad....a great sense of humor, right till the end.