Happy Mother's Day!

For Mothers Everywhere

This is for all the mothers who didn't win “Mother of the Year” in 2009. All the runners-up and all the wannabes. The mothers too tired to enter or too busy to care.

This is for all the mothers who froze their buns off on metal bleachers at soccer games on Friday night instead of watching from the car. So when their kids asked, “Did you see my goal?” they could say, “Of course, 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 okay, honey, Mommy’s here.”

This is for the mothers who gave birth to the children they’ll never see. And for the mothers who took those babies and made them homes.

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 2am 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? I think so.

So this is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all those 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 taught their daughters 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 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 children are at home.

This is for all the mothers who sent their sons to school with stomach aches, assuring them they’d be just fine once they got there…only to get the call from the school nurse an hour later, asking them to please pick up their son, 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.

Pass this on to all the moms in your life.
“Home is what catches you when you fall... and we all fall.”

Happy Mother’s Day. Even if you aren’t a mother now, you may be some day. Or you are a godmother, or a teacher who gives more than the title requires, or a very special lady someone needs when their Mom is not near.