Moms

This is for the mothers who have sat up all night with sick babies and toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf ... or sitting in the ER covered in it saying, "It's alright honey, Mommys here."

Mom's who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can't be comforted.

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. And for the mothers who lost their baby in that precious 9 months that they will never get to watch grow on earth but one day will be reunited with in Heaven!

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

And for all the mothers whose buns froze on metal bleachers, or ached on wooden benches at football, soccer, track, gymnastics, their child's sport of choice instead of watching from their cars or dropping them off and picking them up afterwards, so 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 raise their voices at their kids at the grocery store as the sun begins to set and try to ignore the evil stares from the crowd of strangers that dont realize the sibling punching match has been going on since dawn.

And for all the mothers who count to ten instead, but then give their kids the lecture in the seclusion of the car.

And for those mothers who just turn the radio up on the drive home and sing, or talk to themselves, or cry because they're just not sure how to handle the situation.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the grand-mothers who wanted to, but just couldn't find the words.

This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their children can eat.

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 teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd; even though they know their own children arent with them at that moment.

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.

This is for all the step-mothers who raised another woman's child or children, and gave their time, attention, and love ... sometimes totally unappreciated!

For all the mothers who bite their lips until they bleed when their 14-year-olds dye their hair green.

For all the mothers of the victims of recent 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 all the mothers who taught their children to be peaceful, and now pray they come home safely from a war.

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, walking to school, to a friends house, or getting into the car with their dad, knowing they love and want you both at the same 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 panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M. when you just want to hear their key in the door and know they are safe again in your home?

Or 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?

The emotions of motherhood are universal and so are our thoughts for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation...

And 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.

Hang in there.

In the end we can only do the best we can.

Tell our children every day that we love them.

And pray ... A LOT!

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

-Slightly revised by me!-