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