Thanks for well, where do we even begin?
Let's begin at the beginning. Childbirth, the men among us are told, is a little bit like passing a rose bush. So, thanks for that and for all those sleepless nights during colic and measles and mumps. And that diapers thing. Thanks for that, too.
But our memories are mostly of other things.
Thanks for so many years of limo service, to games and practices and school events. And thanks for that little prayer you said everyday when we were old enough to drive ourselves.
Thanks for making us take dance class in the fifth grade. It was stupid and embarrassing and we hated it. But it came in handy on our wedding day. And it will come in handy now that our own kids are getting married.
Thanks for making Christmas such a special day. And thanks for making so many other days seem like Christmas.
Thanks for introducing us to the library and art museum.
Thanks for running from the top row of the bleachers when we were laying on the field or the court, grabbing at a knee or ankle. We might have ignored you, what with all our macho teammates gathered around. But, forget the team doctors and trainers and coaches. Our mother was who we really wanted.
Thanks for making our beds and washing our clothes and ironing our pants and for, somewhere along the way, teaching us how to do all those things for ourselves.
Thanks for saying "no" when we wanted to play before our homework was done.
Thanks for buying that corsage for our prom date. We would have never thought of it on our own.
Thanks for band-aids and iodine and kissing it until it was better.college, and for the extra $5 or $10 you tucked inside. And thanks for never asking what brand of beer we spent it on.
Thanks for that shoulder to cry on when we were hurt or sick or broken-hearted. And thanks for taking the whip to us when we deserved it.
The old man may have taught us to throw a curve or swing a golf club and he took us to the Glass Bowl or to Tiger Stadium or to Cleveland for ballgames. But you taught us manners and to be respectful, to say "thank you," and "yes sir," and "no, ma'am." You taught us how to be adults. So, thank you ma'am.
And thanks for being such a great grandmother, too. Our kids are better people for having known you.
There was a TV show back in the day called "Father Knows Best." Talk about fiction. We realize now, especially those of us who are fathers, that fathers know very little.
Happy Mother's Day.
All us kids
Contact Blade sports columnist
Dave Hackenberg at
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