To the women that bore us, loved us unconditionally, kissed our boo boos, housebroke us, made us eat our veggies, made us take baths, brush teeth, and comb our hair, put on underwear AND clothes and insisted that the clothing was clean and matched just to play in the yard, told us that coffee (or tea, or soda, or candy) would stunt our growth, spanked our bottoms, didn’t kill us when we doused ourselves with ALL her very expensive perfume, bath products, and then painted our entire face with lipstick and eyeshadow, made us go to school and do our homework when we did not want to, corrected our spelling of bad words, washed our mouths out with soap for correctly using those bad words, made us go to bed at a reasonable hour, made us get up waaaaay too early once we became teenagers, made us learn skills of daily living, took us to church, tolerated our friends, took us to social events, told us that we were going out in public wearing those clothes over OUR dead bodies, waits up until we get home every time, imagining us lying dead beside the road if we’re even a minute late, sympathized with us over the boyfriend/girlfriend broken hearts while inwardly rejoicing that that person was GONE without once outwardly showing her jubilation:
Happy Mother’s Day. Hope it was was worth it!
Speaking as a mother, it definitely WAS, although my maternal worries about the children have been expanded to include grandchildren, and MY mother is still worrying about me! She calls me weekly to tell me to quit my job because she worries about ME getting kicked and bitten at work. You would think, from our conversation, that I was about 4 feet tall with a weight of maybe 80 lbs. (My mother is a teensy little woman. I’m closer to 6′ tall. And I do NOT weigh 80 lbs.) Those maternal worries never go away, do they?
A1A South 