She goes by the name of Jessica. She is loving and she is kind.
She works and works until the metaphorical sun goes down. Metaphorical because she leaves before the sun goes up. She works until every bone in her body aches, and she wishes that the day was over and she could just sleep. She works until she feels like crying, until sometimes when the day is over, that is exactly what she does. She works, until she gets so frustrated she just wants to scream. She works, because she has to, because the cards she was dealt were not the best. She works because her husband is disabled, and her kids have to eat. She works and works, because she has to. She works for the ungrateful children, who don't even understand.
She gets home, and that's when she so desperately wants to go to bed, but she has four people who are all competing for her attention.

"Mom, will you wash me some clothes for tomorrow?"
"Mom, you forgot to call the school."
'Jessica, did you pay the phone bill?"
"Mom, when are you going to cook dinner?"

Mom. Mom. Mom.

She listens when the children had a bad day at school. About the stupid things that seem to mean so much, but truly mean little. She says. "You can do this," when the child feels like giving up. She teaches the child, that no matter what, God will be there, even when you don't think he is. She tells the child, that even though you think you can't, you can. She works 13 hour days, sometimes longer, and she listens. She works these extra long days, and she still cooks dinner most nights, cleans the clothes, and she picks up after the messy children. She teaches the children to have good morals, and to be kind to others when others are not. She holds the children's hand, when they are stuck in bed sick, or when Sally at school said that the child was a stupid. She tries her hardest to make the children happy and keep them healthy. She does all this, and asks the child only to do simple things.
Watch your sister. Clean the kitchen and don't forget the dishes. Clean your room. That's all she asks. And yet when the children are asked to do simple things they complain. But why? Why is it so hard to give back?
She is my mother, and for all the things that suck in life, she is one thing that doesn't, and I have barely lived. My mom gave her life to be a mom, and made sacrifices to raise our little family. My mom had me at 19, which was no easy thing. Just out of high school, and putting your whole life on hold, to take care of a screaming ungrateful little baby. 19, a kid herself. She isn't perfect, but we treat our mothers like they owe it to us to cook dinner, or to wash our clothes, or to buy us the new iPhone. Mothers don't owe us the world, they gave us life, and what did we do for them. We treat them like crap, and we are so full of ourselves that we don't realize it till it's too late.

I love you, mom.