QUIET!

As I type, I'm distracted by my girls active, imaginative, play.
They are loud, and thumping around, and I'm trying not to
get upset.
Deep Breath...
Being a Mom is hard, how can something you love
so much, at times make you want to pull your hair out?
...it doesn't make sense.

Nonetheless, I know someday I will miss being distracted by
loud laughs, re-enactments of High School Musical, and thumping around
...so today I enjoy.
I laugh, I even sing a round of "We're all in this Together"

This was sent to me in an email, so I thought I would share:

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

This is for 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.'

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 for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll
never see. And the mothers who took those babies and gave
them homes.

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

And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal
bleachers at football or soccer games instead of watching
from the warmth of their cars.

And 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 yell at their kids in the
grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp
their feet and scream for ice cream before dinner. And for
all the mothers who count to ten instead, but realize how
child abuse happens.

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 offspring are at home -- or even
away at college ~or have their own families.

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.

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 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 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 our
thoughts are 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. For all of us...

Hang in there. In the end we can only do the best we can.
Tell them every day that we love them. And pray and never
stop being a mom..


'Home is what catches you when you fall - and we all
fall.