My days are filled with poop and pee,
arguing, whining, and squeals of glee.
I like to think I have control,
but my kids think that is rather droll.
Each day I start with a sense of hope,
that the coffee’s ready and will help me cope.
My sleep interrupted, my body wants to revolt.
I need the caffeine to give me a jolt.
Four little creatures, I see waiting there,
Running around with sleep-messy hair.
Feed them, dress them, start the days grind,
brush one’s hair, wipe one’s behind.
One onto the bus, preschool for another,
Two stay with me, their harried mother.
Tomorrow I think, I’ll do this all better,
get up earlier, make lunches, get it together.
I’ve given up on being THAT mom,
the one with makeup, jewelry or matching clothes on.
No, I’m the one running late,
for school, for appointments, for a playdate.
I usually forget something I need,
thank Heaven for friends who loan things to me.
These girls are my rock, the cut me much slack,
And they know that I’ve got their back.
The years are short, but the days are long
and some days I feel like I’m doing it wrong.
My kids watch TV, eat junk and fight,
they haven’t learned Spanish or how to sleep through the night.
But most days we laugh and hug and kiss
Those moments I know it doesn’t get better than this.
My kids know I love them and I do my best everyday
to make a good home for them to learn and play.
So after six years of this motherhood stuff
I’ve learned being a parent is really tough.
I’m a good mom and I’m a good wife,
and I can’t wait to see what happens in life!
