Mother

The article below which was an email forwarded touches my heart… perfect in time for Mother’s Day.
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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 the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms saying, “It’s okay honey, Mommy’s here.” Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours, soothing crying babies who can’t be comforted.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes.

This is for the mothers whose priceless art collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.

And for all the mothers who sat on the bleachers at football, basketball or soccer games. 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 sometimes yell at their kids in the grocery store when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream.

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 find the words.

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.

For all the mothers who bite their lips when their 14 year olds dye their hair “green”.
For the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror of the news, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.

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.

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, going to school 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…

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…

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