I Throw Like a Girl

Posts Tagged ‘Mother’s Day’

Happy Mother’s Day ~ Love Never Fails by Brandon Heath

Posted by Carol on May 8, 2010


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Happy Mother’s Day?

Posted by Carol on May 12, 2008

We went away for the weekend for Mother’s Day.  My husband’s mother flew from across the country to my sister-in-law’s home in Virginia, so off we went to spend Mom’s Day with family. 

It’s about a 4 hour drive from here if everything goes well. That means if there is no highway construction, bad weather, or accidents on Interstate 95. Things rarely go well on I-95.  

Since Hubs had just gotten back from a 10 day business trip on Thursday, he preferred that we leave Saturday morning.  I had been campaigning to leave on Friday night after I got done with work. I even volunteered to do the driving, but no go.  Hubs was determined to have 2 nights in his own bed before trekking down to VA Saturday morning and then turning around in a little more than 24 hours to make the return trip that was pretty much guaranteed to be spent sitting in traffic most of the way.

We got up at the crack of dawn, loaded our two dogs, and overnight bags in the way back of the car and off we went.  All was going surprisingly well until we hit Delaware.  Once we went through the tolls, our 11 year old golden retriever, Sadie, started whining. We didn’t think too much of it because my husband had been listening to voicemail at that time.  In his car, his cell phone calls come through the radio speakers, so we thought the strange voices were making Sadie nervous.

That was sadly not the case.

The next thing we know, our daughter, who was sitting in the back seat started yelling, “She’s pooping, she’s pooping!”

Dear Hubby who has a very strong gag reflex, (tested many times during the diaper changing years) started heaving and looking for a place to pull over.  We managed to stop near a grassy area, remove both dogs from the car, and yours truly got to clean up the mess.

While pulled over, a state trooper stopped along side of us and asked if everything was ok.  Hubs told him of the unfortunate incident with the dogs, and the trooper said, “better you than me,” and sped off.

We drove the rest of the way to Virginia with all the windows rolled down which combined with the poop smell, rain, and 50 degree temps, made for a very lovely ride. We were quite the sight to behold when we got to our destination.

The rest of the weekend was very nice, spent catching up with relatives, going to church on Sunday, and watching movies.

Our ride home was not as exciting as the ride to VA.  We did hit some traffic, had a highly emotional conversation with our 16 year old daughter, and got home by 10:30.

This morning at work, Hubby called me and asked, “How’s your stomach?”

“Fine, thank you, how’s yours?”

“Not too good.  My sister just called and told me that about 5 of the people at dinner last night now have food poisoning.”

Don’t tell him, but I think he is suffering from the power of suggestion – and a very sensitive gag reflex.

Happy belated Mother’s Day!

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Homage to Mothers

Posted by Carol on May 9, 2008

(My sweet sister in law sent this to me in an email.  I thought I’d share it with you.  Happy Mother’s Day!)

This is for all the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up spit-up laced with hot dogs, birthday cake, and fruit juice 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 purse.

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 are at work trying to earn enough 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 sat on cold metal bleachers at hockey, baseball or soccer games 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 the grocery store and swatted them in despair when they stomped their feet, like a tired two-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 to explain 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 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-olds dye their hair green.

What makes a good Mother anyway?
Is it patience?
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 a.m. when your teenager with the new driver’s license is an hour late getting home?

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?

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 all and 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.

Please pass this to a wonderful mother you know. (I just did.)

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