Here’s to mothers who bravely waited until the bus rounded the corner to burst into tears.
Here’s to mothers who have bandaged imaginary boo-boos and applied ice packs for tummy aches.
Here’s to mothers who have fished poop out of bathtubs, pellet by pellet, without so much as gagging.
Here’s to mothers who have slept in twin beds or on hardwood floors, just to be within an arm’s reach of their needy child.
Here’s to mothers who have been away for days, missing their children so badly they could taste it, only to arrive home completely unnoticed.
Here’s to mothers who wonder if the teenage babysitter is a better mother than they are.
Here’s to mothers who have given up their un-licked ice cream cone, because their child’s fell flat on the sidewalk.
Here’s to mothers who let their children dress themselves and hope with all their might that the rest of the world is aware of that fact.
Here’s to mothers who bite their tongues instead of saying “I told you so” when their children so deserve it.
Here’s to mothers who find their expensive hair products poured down the drain and their brushes filled with plastic doll hair.
Here’s to mothers who wear evidence of their children, not only under their clothing, but on it as well.
Here’s to mothers who are ecstatic to find a worm or spot a garbage truck in action, even though they find both disgusting.
Here’s to mothers who want to both fast forward and rewind time all in the span of ten minutes…
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