Mothers are for.........

Mothers are for loving you

If you're good or bad.

Mothers are for sharing

Whatever makes you glad.

Mothers are for laughing

At your favorite jokes.

Mothers are for helping you

Get along with folks.

Mothers are for reading

Stories old and new.

Mothers are for teaching you

To always be kind and true.

Mothers are for watching

When you give a play.

Mothers are for clapping

In a happy sort of way.

Mothers are for loving

When you snuggle up so tight.

Mothers are for hugging you

With a sweet good night.

Nduka Enemchukwu . (copyright) May 1994.

Back in 1994, precisely twelve years ago, a few days to mother's day, my son's fifth grade teacher sent home a large envelope with him addressed to me. Being a good student and a good boy overall,Iwas'nt worried about the contents of the envelope. A note inside read it : Dear Mrs Enemchukwu, I thought you may want to keep this, since it's so special, I laminated it for you". I pulled out an 8x10 laminated pink poster paper with a poem on it. The title was " Mothers are for....... and signed and dated by my son Nduka Enemchukwu . He stood there in anticipation, so I read the poem and pulled him close and gave him a big hug for writing such a sweet poem specially for me. I put it away in my scrap book where I put awards or such things from school or sporting events.With our hectic schedule, there was no time for dwelling on the poem at the time.A typical day started with my return from work in the morning and the house buzzing with before school activities. The children would be almost halfway through getting ready for school by the time I get home and we hurry and get everyone out the door and see the bicycle riders off and I take the car riders and the baby to get in the the drop- off line before it becomes too long. Some days the line would be so long that I am usually able to get a good ten to fifteen minute cat nap before it is our turn to drop off. The two year old and I would then hurry home, bathe east breakfast and then proceed totidy up the house quickly . He looked foward to our time together because he had me all to himslf. After breakfast, we would watch for Sesame Street and other of his favorite children's program before we go to sleep. On good days he would let me get up to three hours of sleep, on bad days or when he was sick, it would be off and on cat naps on the couch in between watching Tv, playing or just trying to get over an ear infection or another uncorfortable problem. If I fell asleep in the middle of his favorite show, he would gently try to wake me up for the laughs. Then it's time for afterschool pick ups. First, the three bicycle riders arrive, full of ennrgy and excitement and stories to tell. The pick up line for the two car riders was usually long by the time I got there and the girls were tired and quiet on the ride home after standing in the blazing Florida sun wiating for their turn to be picked up. The evenings were usually spent at practice for Tennis, Basketball, Cross country depending on which sporting event they were involved in at the time. If there was no practice , they played in the yard and usually took the little one and I would manage another hour or two of sleep before homework, dinner and off to work. Even during the week end and Summer, when school was out, getting adequate sleep was a big challenge. Sports practice, YMCA swimming lessons, Tennis tournaments whch sometime took us to Tampa or Fort Lauderdale, Florida kept us on our toes. A few neighbors and friends from church whose children were in the same program, helped out once in a while and gave rides to my children allowing me time to sleep before working the night shift. Two occasions come to mind when I absolutely thought I would lose my mind. The two-year old had surgery, an out patient event that requred us to be at the hospital by seven thirty in the morning. Having no vacation time left, I pleaded with my supervisor to let me bring him to work with me so we could leave from work to his appointment in the morning. My request was granted and I took him to work which made him very happy. Being in an unfamiliar environment, it was difficult for him to settle down and sleep and he kapt demanding something to drink which I could'nt give him becasue he was NPO and was not allowed to eat or drink anything. Calming him down while trying to do my work was a big challenge.We went straight to the hospital from work, about a thirty minute drive and were almost late when we got there, despite the fact that my relief came in early so I could leave. They quickly prepped him and took him to the operating room. I fell asleep in the waiting room and the nurse woke me up when the surgery was over and asked that I come and stay with him in the recovery room. They knew I had worked the night before and gave me a recliner. We slept side by side while the nurses watched us like we were both in recovery. When he came to, they woke me up to hold him because he was crying for pain. They gave him some pain medication and we hung around for another two hours before they discharged us with instructuions and an appoitment slip for follow up.We drove home uneventfully but trouble started when we got home and the little gellow could'nt do all the things he used to do. He got frustrated and cried at the drop of a pin. Carrying him on my back with a wrapper used to work wonders because he enjoyed it, stayed out of trouble and usually fell asleep in no time. This time, I could'nt carry him because of his surgical wound so it was cranky town for the next few days.He cried if any of his siblings approached or touched him. Two days, I called in sick, then I took him to work with me for about three days. We were both relived when his wound healed and he could move around again and do things for himself.Another hairy situation arose one day as I was cooking one hot summer day. Having been raised on beans, I continue to enjoy beans to this day, especially lentils and black beans. They have less carbohydrate and do not cause as much bloating as the black eye beans. I would cook beans (beanse) as my children called it trying to mimmick Nigerians, and serve it with rice and stew or with plantain. Every one enjoyed it. It usally took just a few minutes to cook the beans in a pressure cooker. Even when we made Chili from scatch, we cooked the Kidney beans with the pressure cooker which leaves the beans soft and intact and not mushy as the children describe over cooked food.On that fateful day, we had come back from a morning of tennis practice and every one was exhausted and staying inside, away from the blazing heat. I started dinner early so we can eat and relax a little bit before it was time for work. I started rice in one pot, made stew and then started the beans in the pressure cooker. I sat down on the couch and fell asleep. Then I saw little people jumping up and down in front of me poiting to the kitchen and saying something. I thought I was dreaming. When I finally woke up, I realized something was going on in the kitchen. My children always tease me for burning food because I fell asleep on the couch. They had no idea how to handle this particular situation and I am happy they did'nt try.The loud whistling and hissing of the pressure cooker made me run to the kitchen. I was confused by what I saw. I stood there for a minute trying to figure out how to tackle the problem and the children kept yelling" Mom do something , do something. So I ran towrds the stove to turn off it off. The pressure cooker had blown its top and was sending a steady stream of hot liquid to the ceiling and the hot liquid was raining on the kitchen floor. I slipped on the thick liquid on the floor and landed sitting squarley in it while more rained on my head. I tried to get up, slipped and fell again. My children were dying with laughter and trying so hard to conceal it. Desperate to do something quickly, I crawled on all fours to the stove, reached up and turned it off. The whistling finally subsided and the upward spray stopped. By this time we were all rolling on the floor laughing. I was dripping with bean broth , in my hair, on my arms, on my face. The children kept apologising for laughing at me but it was so funny they could,nt help it. Funny, not really, that pot could have exploded or blown a hole in the ceiling. I never used a pressure cooker again since that close call.The years went by really fast and middle school and high school breezed by and college is also becoming history and sometimes I wonder where the years went.A few days ago, while putting away Aj's High school graduation notice in my scrap book,a pink laminted poster paper fell out and I picked it up and read it and it was the peom from long ago. For the first time,I noticed the rhyme, the thoughtfulness and the simple things that mattered to a ten year old and I was touched. No wonder the teacher laminated it and sent it to me to personally. I called the poet and asked him if he remembered the mother's day peom he wrote for me in fifth grade. " I wrote so many poems in those days Mom" he responded and I remember clearly the little notes he would bring home and I will show my appreciation and just put them aside on the table on night stand. I asked hime if I could share this special poem since he had signed and dated it. He was laughing at how seriously I was taking the copyright issue. I insisted that he copyright it before mother's day and he promised to do just that. With that I felt I had the freedom to share this special poem from a ten year old, now twenty two who thinks the world of his mother and the little things she did and does. My prayer is that he will one day be blessed with that special someone, who will think the world of him and who he will adore as he adores his mother

.To all the single Moms out there, pulling double duty to give their children a normal life, and to all the Dads who are filling Mom's shoes because Mom is winning the bread and is too busy or Mom is simply out to left field, this Poem is for you.