Motherhood

Everyone has always told me that I should enjoy my children because they grow up fast. Of course, when they are little and you are barely sleeping that seems to be absurd. Your days are long and exhausting. You can’t seem to find yourself amongst the diaper bag and multiple kid gadgets. BUT, my oldest it almost nine which is half-way eighteen and my youngest just turned four which is almost school age and I have to tell you I am finally getting it.

How does this happen. I remember their births as if they were yesterday. Both were strangely identical. I was induced with both at around 7 am and both were born at around 2 in the afternoon. They sounded the same, looked similar, and I felt that exhilaration that can never be matched with both. All of that seems to have just happened and now I see the days whizzing by and I wonder if I will soon be telling other young mothers to enjoy their children because it will go fast.

So here is something that I received from my friend, Stacy. I think that it is very fitting to all mothers. So to all of you mom’s, HAPPY MOTHERS DAY!

Homage to Mothers

This is for all the mothers who have sat up all night

with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf

laced with Kraft Dinner and wieners,birthday cake,

and cherry Kool-Aid saying,It's OK honey,

Mommy's here.

"Who have walked around the house all night

with their babies when they kept crying and wouldn't stop.

This is for all the mothers who have shown up

at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains

on their blouses and diapers in their purses.

For all the mothers who have run carpools and

made dozens of cookies for school teas and sewn

Halloween costumes.

And all the mothers who HAVEN'T because they're

at work trying to keep on top of the bills.

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 all their love.

This is for all the mothers who have frozen their buns off

on metal bleachers at hockey, baseball or soccer games

any night of the week instead of watching from their 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 meant it.

This is for all the mothers who have yelled at their kids

in thegrocery storeand swatted them in despair when

they stomped their feet like a tired 2-year old does,

who wants ice cream before dinner, and then hated themselves

for "losing" it.

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.

For all the mothers who read "Goodnight, Moon"

twice a night for a whole 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 taught their sons to cook

and sew and their daughters to be brave and strong and

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 offspring

are at home or grown up.

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.And they do.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray,

and who can't find the words to reach them.

For all the mothers who bite their lips sometimes until they

bleed when their 14-year old dyes their hair green.

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 the 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? Or the terror in your heart at 1 AM when your teenager with the new driver's licence is an hour late getting home. The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2A.M.to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

Or to feel the dull ache as you look in on your sleeping daughter or son the night before they leave for a college in another city.

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?

For all the mothers of the victims of all the 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 mothers who have tearfully placed flowers and teddy bears on their children's graves.Whose children have died from illness, accidents and the worst of alland hardest to comprehend,suicides.

This is for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation. And mature mothers who have learned and are still learning,to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.

Single mothers and married mothers.

Grandmothers whose wisdom and love remains a constant for their grown children and their children's children.