If you send this to just one person, it should  make it all the way around the World by Mother's Day.

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 gotthere, 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. Have a Happy Mother's day...

GOD KNOWS YOU DESERVE IT. 

I HOPE YOU KNOW IT TOO.
"Home is what catches you when you fall - and we all fall."

 |  IP: Logged

 |  IP: Logged

 |  IP: Logged

 |  IP: Logged

 |  IP: Logged

 |  IP: Logged

My children now celebrate Mothers Day with my wife and we all sit down for a family meal with all the grand children. We tell them about our own mothers on this day. It's like passing the family history down through stories about a person who is no longer with us.

As long as your Mothers are remembered your Mom's are with you.

 |  IP: Logged

Subject: Mean Moms

Someday when my children are old enough understand the logic that
motivates a parent, I will tell them

I loved you enough...to ask where you were going, with whom, and what time
you would be home.

I loved you enough...to insist that you save your
money and buy a bike for
yourself even though we could afford to buy one for you.

I loved you enough...to be silent and let you
discover that your new best friend
was a creep.

I loved you enough...to make you go pay for the bubble gum you had taken and
tell the clerk, "I stole this yesterday and want to pay for it."

I loved you enough...to stand over you for two hours while you cleaned your
room, a job that should have taken 15 minutes.

I loved you enough...to let you see anger,
disappointment, and tears in my
eyes. Children must learn that their parents aren't perfect.

I loved you enough...to let you assume the
responsibility for your actions
even when the penalties were so harsh they almost broke my heart.

But most of all, I loved you enough...to say NO when I knew you would hate me for it. Those were the most difficult battles of all.

I'm glad I won them, because in the end you won,
too. And someday when your
children are old enough to understand thlogic that
motivates parents, you will tell them...

Was your Mom mean? I know mine was. We had the meanest mother in the whole world!

While other kids ate candy for breakfast, we had to have cereal, eggs, and toast.

When others had a Pepsi and a Twinkie for lunch, we had to eat sandwiches.
And you can guess our mother fixed us a dinner that was different from what other kids had, too.

Mother insisted on knowing where we were at all times. You'd think we were convicts in a prison.

She had to know who our friends were, and what we were doing with them.

She insisted that if we said we would be gone for an hour, we would be gone for an hour or less.

We were ashamed to admit it, but she had the nerve to break the Child Labor Laws by making us work. We had to wash the dishes,
make the beds, learn to cook, vacuum the floor, do laundry, empty the trash and all sorts of cruel jobs. I think she would lie awake at night thinking of more things for us to do.

She always insisted on us telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

By the time we were teenagers, she could read our minds. Then, life was really tough!

Mother wouldn't let our friends just honk the horn when they drove up. They had to come up to the door so she could meet them.

While everyone else could date when they were 12 or 13, we had to wait until we were 16.

Because of our mother we missed out on lots of things other kids experienced.
None of us have ever been caught shoplifting,vandalizing other's property or ever arrested for any crime. It was all her fault.

Now that we have left home, we are all educated, honest adults. We are doing
our best to be mean parents just like Mom was.

I think that is what's wrong with the world today.It just doesn't have enough mean moms.

 |  IP: Logged