Moms, you're da bomband other things you need to hear on Mother's Day
Moms, you’re da bomb
Mother’s Day is fast approaching.
By accident, I just read through an entire box of cards and letters from friends and family that I’ve saved over the years. I haven’t saved all of them, mind you. Just the good ones—the original ones and the ones with hand-written messages on the inside fly.
About half were sweet notes from friends and funny cards from my sons or husband in honor of my birthday or Mother’s Day.
The rest were the best of all: hand-made cards from the elementary years and notes in garbled first-grade handwriting. I love yous scrawled across lined paper with red hearts in the corners. Stick figures with big round heads attached to legs and arms, like globes on stands, only with smiling faces and brown hair instead of continents. The cards spoke of love given and love reciprocated. They weren’t contingent on money or a husband or family vacations or success in school. Only love.
My sons’ messages surprised me and challenged me. I feel positively warm all over, and I keep chuckling to myself.
Thank you for loving me even when I’m bad.
I love you because you play with me and make me cookies.
Thank you for cooking food for me and buying me clothes.
You’re the best because you watch my soccer practices.
I love you because you’re my mom.
I’ll love you forever.
You’re the best mom in the world!
Thank you for your hugs and kisses. (No one has said that for a long time!)
And the poems. Oh, the poems. Bless elementary teachers everywhere!
I’m sorry, I have to share a couple. They are simply hysterical. Original and anonymous, for the sake of my grown-up children’s dignity.
Mom, you are so kind,
When I break things you don’t mind.
You always work so hard
Thats why I made this card.
Youre usally setting up things,
So you deserve lots of rings.
You’re defenitly at the top,
Were I won’t let you drop.
To: the greatest mom ever
This is to my mom’s disire
As I type this poem my heart is afire.
This poem is like my heart
Although it is a little part.
I love you mom
Your da bomb.
Worth every vomit-filled, pee-filled, nightmare-filled, fever-filled night.
That’s what Mother’s Day is about: sacrifice and love and hopefully a thank you for being you, which you’re going to be regardless of the recognition.
Happy Mother’s Day to mothers everywhere.
You’re da bomb.