Spring is in the air,
And pollen from the grasses.
I’d like to find the Sudafed,
But first must find my glasses.
Searched all day for those specs,
Foul words I was heard to utter.
Found them in an obvious place,
In the fridge behind the butter.
With spring weather all my kids
Have increased activities.
Mom’s old body finds it hard
To keep up with such proclivity,
When you must repeat it decades later,
Fourth grade is such a bummer.
Please, Lord, no more homework!
C’mon, where is summer?!
Can’t wait for heat and days at the pool,
But first I must get trimmer.
‘Cause if I don’t hit the gym soon,
I’ll scare the little swimmers.
Wait! Bring on that ol’ rabbit,
For first we must have Easter.
I’ll find the time to play the bunny,
Somehow I’ll move my keister.
Nodded off in the sunlit kitchen,
Fatigue, caffeine couldn’t mask it.
I sat up quick when the doorbell rang,
And knocked my coffee in the laundry basket.
My son doesn’t want to read,
My daughter won’t eat chicken.
The youngest doesn’t want to potty,
Mom’s about to lose her frickin’…
Oh, the joys of childhood,
And being my kids’ mother.
For though I’m losing brain cells daily,
This life, I’d choose no other.
Tag Archives: poetry
Reason for the Season
The lights are on the roof,
The presents are all hid,
Mom’s checking her list twice,
And spending too much quid.
Ice shows and recitals,
Parties at the school,
Baby picks the darndest times,
To have to do a stool.
Mom’s driving hither nither,
Got too much to do,
Thinks she can get home soon,
And then she sees the queue.
Shopped for evergreen,
But simply couldn’t agree,
Accept that 97 bucks,
Is too much for a tree!
Need to mail the gifts,
For the folks so far away,
Too late to send them ground,
Gotta pay for Second Day.
Had to bake some cookies,
To make some memories,
Ate them all by midnight,
The hell with calories.
Haven’t bought the rib eye,
To cook on Christmas day,
But did check out the egg nog,
Now don’t care anyway.
It’s the same way every year,
As hectic as can be,
Mom tries to plan ahead,
But still works frantically.
The kids are so excited,
“We’ve been good girls and boys!”
“By whose account?” Mom says,
“But it’s not about the toys!”
“It’s not about the goodies,
Or trees and blinking lights,
It’s not about the presents,
Delivered in the night.”
“It’s an enormous birthday party
Where we all receive,
A beautiful remembrance,
Of the miracle we believe.”
“Food, lights, and endless shopping,
For the gift we hope that pleases,
Is really to remember,
The birth of our Lord Jesus.”
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