Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Motherhood Poem

Artwork of my angel by Marita, of The Family Life.

In This Stage We Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!

“Wake-up-I-wan-nummies!” she shouts in my face,
And I roll out of bed, feeling like a disgrace.
How can it be morning? I can’t help but wonder
“I AM HUN-GY!” she shouts, her voice is like thunder.
I just wiped last night’s messy meal off that smile,
Now it’s time for breakfast, in this two year old style.
I reach for my glasses, but of course they aren’t there
They’re across the room in the baby doll chair.
I scoop up the baby, and stumble downstairs
I glance at the mess, and I try not to glare,
“I wan-oat-mea!” she yells, and pulls it off the shelf
Hot oatmeal it’ll be, I then think to myself.

She then takes what I make, spits it out on the floor
While I clean it all up, races out the front door.
She heads straight for the street; our drive is her highway, 
She’s in my high heels, doing it all “my-way.”
I ask her please stop and she only runs faster;
In this little game, she is my master.

Her inside out jammies, they are nearly threadbare
I hope that the neighbors don’t see her out there.
She giggles to herself, as she gets near the road.
Mother instincts set in, setting off panic mode.
I set down the baby, and then race for the street.
At the end of the drive, the wild toddler I meet.
I grab hold of her wrist, she roars like a monster.
I hurry up the drive, face red as a lobster.
She wiggles and jiggles, she is oh so stubborn.
I wonder- but why? Does she have to relearn
Every day of the week, what’s right and what’s wrong.
My patience is short, and her energy long.

We shuffle inside, where the baby does cry.
“I can’t see my mommy, and I do wonder why!”
We flop down on the couch, to feed baby and then
The reality of this whole Monday sets in.
There are doctors and dentists and teachers to see.
I cry and I wonder, is this really on me?
The circus of baby, toddlers, school children too?
How will I handle this? Just what will I do?
One moment at a time is all I will think on
And I turn round to see my wild two year old gone.

I jump up off the couch, again set down the baby.
Where did the child go to? The fridge, or bath maybe?
“I ‘m texthting.”  she whispers, and holds up my phone.
She’s called Auntie Janette, in an earlier time zone.
I sigh and I pray that Auntie didn’t hear it.
I grab up my cell phone, and vow to stay near it.

Diapers, clean outfits, hairdos, shoes, and brush teeth,
On the surface we’re clean, but don’t look underneath.
For the days in the dirt, and the grass and the dew,
Washing them right spotless is not easy to do.
My gel covered hand scrubs around on his head,
And out to the bus kindergartener is lead.
At least it’s one less to look after today,
I tell him “Have fun!” and I try not to say,
Be careful of bullies, strangers, and all scary stuff,
I worry for him so, will my prayers be enough?
Before I can shed even just one small tear,
I am side-tracked; my toddler I swear was just here!

I race around shouting “now where did you go?”
Her every location I sure wish to know.
“I made you a picture!” she smiles up at me,
Blue crayon on the wall, “Lovely picture I see.”

Everyone is buckled; I back up the car,
I hope that the doctor says we’re all up to par.
“I peed in my undies!” toddler shouts from the back,
Another dirty pair we will add to the stack.                         
I call up the doctor, to tell them I’m late,
“No problem!” they say, “But don’t come in today.”
“We’ll have you reschedule, now when’s a good day?”
A good day, why never! I think to myself,
In fact I’m not worried about any one’s health!

The day speeds on by quickly with no shortage of messes,
There is flour on the floor and food coloring on dresses.
The toothpaste is gone, I hope she doesn’t get ill,
Although that may give me a rest from her still.

As I tuck them all in for the night in their beds,
And place a quick kiss on each of their heads,
“I wub you.” she says and she closes her eyes.
I feel so much guilt, for how could I despise?
All the crazy wild madness and all of those messes,
They make me so tired for to me they are stresses.
But to this little angel they’re all about learning
And growing much bigger, for which she is yearning.

Opportunities are never missed,
I think as that last cheek is kissed.
And if that crazy little one was to be taken,
How boring would be our home- unshaken.
For she is the color, the fun, and the life,
That brightens the days for this busy wife.


Yes, this is based on real life. I'm sure you mothers can relate! 

Marita drew the adorable little cartoon at the top, and I wrote the poem. She draws lots of darling images based on experiences in motherhood. Every mom should check out her siteThe Family Life!

A few of my favorites of hers are this one, this one, and this one. I can totally relate to all of them! 

Thanks for stopping by!

P.S. To read some of my other writings on real life, click here, here,or here.

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