MOMS:

This is for all the mothers who froze their buns off on

metal bleachers at football games on Friday nights instead

of watching from cars, so that when their kids asked, "Did you see my play?"

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 vomit 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 made

homes for them.

For all the mothers of the victims of the Colorado shooting, and

the mothers of the murderers. 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 mess up. 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 daughters

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 offspring 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 a call 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 we fall - and we all

fall."

HAVE A GREAT DAY!

Robi,

Here is another one I thought you might like. Hope all is going O.K. We got

you Christmas card today. Thank you very much for the money. I sent your

package. Hopefully it will get there by Christmas. We'll try to call sometime during

during the holidays. Merry Christmas!!

Love ya lots!!

Nina

MOMS:

This is for all the mothers who froze their buns off on

metal bleachers at football games on Friday nights instead

of watching from cars, so that when their kids asked, "Did you see my play?"

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 vomit 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 made

homes for them.

For all the mothers of the victims of the Colorado shooting, and

the mothers of the murderers. 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 mess up. 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 daughters

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 offspring 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 a call 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 we fall - and we all

fall."

HAVE A GREAT DAY!