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A MOTHER'S DAY POEM

 

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A Mother's Day Poem

*Please Note: This came to me through an email and unfortunately I have been unable to locate the author. If you know who the author is, kindly let us know so credit may be given!*

 

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 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."

Please pass this to a wonderful mother you know.

 

 

   

 

 

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