They’ll never really know what she’s done for them in their lives. They’ll never see the moments she spent in tears, agonizing over the best decision for them. They’ll never know what she has personally sacrificed to be a better mother for them. It’s not about her. It never was.
Mother’s have a bond with children that can’t be defined. No matter how much they grow, how much time they spend with Dad. When life gets too real, when it gets to be too much to bear, it will always be mom who is most important. Without saying a word, only she seems to make everything better. It’s starts as simple as scraped knees, running past dad’s open arms to mom whose kiss is a healing elixir for all wounds. It grows into mending broken hearts as effortlessly as mending torn pants.
Her exploits go unnoticed, and she would prefer it that way. At least until the moment comes when every child wants to get paid for cleaning their room. Then she simply responds “Who has paid me to wash your clothes and cook your supper?”. It’s her job. She won’t deny it. Her labor of love for the children who will never grow too old for her to care for them.
She is patient, she is kind. She does not brag (unless it’s about her boys). She isn’t easily angered like dad is and keeps no record of wrongs. She doesn’t enjoy bad behavior, but celebrates the smallest accomplishment. She never gives up on you, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through everything.