Our Mother
Sharon K. Higginbotham
Born 12/11/42 Died 4/28/94
I wanted to do something special as a kind of a tribute to my very special mother. There is not words that I can express that says enough about this very special Lady! A Lady who raised 8 children on her own. She loved,sweated, cried, laughed and disciplined through the years until Christ decided to take her to her resting place in heaven. She was truly a remarkable Lady. This Poem goes out to you Mom, one of the truly greatest women you would ever have chance to meet! I miss you MOM! I know you are watching as all of our kids grow and only hope that I can be the kind of mother you were. Since I took you for granted all those years you were alive, This year and for every year until we are together again when I will probably take you for granted again,you are awarded
This is for all the mothers who didn't ever won Mother of the year but definetely should have! We Love you MOM!!
All the runners-up and all the wannabes. The mothers too tired to enter or too busy to care.
This is for all the mothers who froze their buns off on metal bleachers at soccer games Friday night instead of watching from cars, so that when their kids asked, "Did you see my goal?" they could say "Of course, 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 barf 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 them homes.
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, fry a chicken, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time?
Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son 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 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 the 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 calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up.
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.
And especially for you Sharon Higginbotham, a true Mother of Every YEAR!
But, at least I was not alone in my suffering. My four brothers and three sisters had the same mean mother as I did. My mother insisted upon knowing where us kids were at all times. You'd think we were convicts in a prison. She had to know who our friends were, and what we were doing. She insisted if we said we would be gone an hour, that we be home in one hour or less not one hour and one minute!
I am really ashamed to admit it, but she actually punished us, each time we did as we pleased. Can you imagine someone actually punishing a child? Only because we disobeyed. Now you can see how mean she really was.
The worst is yet to come. We had to be in bed by nine each night and up early the next morning. We couldn't sleep till noon like our friends. So while they slept my mother actually had the nerve to break the child labor law. She had us work, we had to wash dishes, make beds, learn to cook, and all sorts of cruel things. I believe she lay awake nights, thinking up mean things to do to us. She always insisted upon us telling the truth and nothing but the truth!
By the time we were teenagers. She was much worse and our lives became even more unbearable. No one tooting the horn of a car in front of the house for us. She would embarrass us to no end by making our dates and friends come to the door to get us. I forgot to mention, while my friends were dating at the mature ages of 12 and 13, Old fashioned mother refused to let us date until the age of 17 and 18. 17 that is if you only dated to school functions and that only came twice a year!
My mother was a complete failure as a mother. None of us has ever been arrested! Each of my brothers served their time in the service of his country, and whom do we have to blame for the terrible way we turned out??? You are right, our mean mother! Look at all the things we missed. We have never been in jail, never used dope, never been violent, and a million and one other things that our friends did. She forced us to grow into God fearing, educated, honest adults!
Using this as a background, I will stand a little taller and be filled with pride, because you see, I thank God He gave me the meanest mother
