Thanking all the mothers out there

There are all different types of moms out there. The Trojan Messenger staff would like to celebrate the ones that are closest to our hearts.

To the soccer moms: Happy Mother’s Day to all the soccer moms who buy the newest cleats, shin guards, and uniforms. Who drive home from late night games and practices. Who coach, cheer, and shout from the bleachers and sidelines. Who gather and make all the snacks for the upcoming games. Who drive and comfort all the way to the doctor’s office. Who give up their weekends just to watch their “baby” do something they enjoy. Thank you

To the dance moms: Thank you for the endless hours of sitting in freezing cold studios or waiting on us out in the car. Thank you for the last minute costume repairs and always having those safety pins handy. Thank you for the crazy amounts of money that you put into our dreams. You’re always at all of the performances and the loudest fan. You arrive an hour early and leave an hour late. Our dedication could have not been possible without yours. (P.S. We’re out of bobby pins.)

To the band moms: I would like to say thank you one last time (even though we all know it won’t be the last). Thank you for putting up with the stress that is marching band season, beginning in August. Thank you for buying all of Walmart’s sunscreen, multiple pairs of sunglasses to share around the band, paying for expensive instruments that need repairs every other klutzy fall, and the thousands of water bottles we’ve all ingested in just one season. Even though you can never pair the right instrument with its correct name and somehow believe trumpets and mellophones are the same thing, we all still love you. Thank you for rescheduling every doctor’s and orthodontist appointments, and yes, we did listen the whole car ride home while you ranted about how we got let out of practice two minutes late, and yes, we’re sorry, but it will happen again tomorrow too. We see you dancing and stalking us at football games, you’re not hiding from anyone, but thank you for truly believing “we’re always ready.” We couldn’t be, without your help. Thank you for your time–especially the cranky one-in-the-morning pick me ups–the hundreds of hours every season all for the sake of seven minutes put together as perfectly as possible. Most of all though, thank you for the memories. Thank you for supporting us and our newly extended family (yes, you have more children now) as sixty or so awkward teenagers steal the football field for seven minutes to make something visually and musically beautiful.

To all the single ladies out there: Put your hands up… and applaud yourself. You’re doing a two person job, filling the shadow of someone for, whatever reason, is no longer present. A 24-hour, full time job that is known as raising a stubborn, lazy, selfish teenager, plus working your career, and probably doing all of the housework when you get home too. You’re awake to be our alarm clocks for school and still cleaning up around the house as we crash from a long day of sitting behind a desk. Thank you for loving us selflessly, putting us first, making sure we have everything we need, and still managing to show up to a few of our events as well.

To the working mothers: Thank you for missing our games, recitals, and performances and for spending endless nights alone in hotel rooms because your boss needed you to travel with him. Thank you for missing our movie nights, canceling plans, and skipping dinner all those times.

This may sound like a back-handed thank you. However, we really do thank you, and here is why.

When all of the other kids had their mothers at home babying them and cutting their steak into little pieces, we had to roll up our sleeves and do it ourselves. You taught us to be independent. Your work ethic is inspiring. How can we complain about all of our homework when you work 60 hours a week?

If we had a mother who picked out our clothes every morning, and packed our lunch for school, we would not be the person we are today. There are things that a parent must teach, but there are some things that are better to learn on your own.

To all of the “mothers” who aren’t actually ours by birth: Thank you for stepping in and taking the place of the one unable to be there. We are grateful for the compassion you have spread throughout the areas of our life in which it was lacking. Oh, can you pass the butterscotch, grandma?