Category Archives: motherhood

Like Giving Birth

The words emphatic
In a voice heavy on nasal,
My work has been
Like giving birth to a baby
Followed by a pompous
Overconfident chuckle
A college professor
Of political science
Theatre arts, or was it
Physical education
His incessant droning
Resulting in my choked
Back yawns of exhausted
Disregard until his attempt
At a simile of equality
Rouses me to attention
His curdled sensibility
His perversity of belief
That lack of anatomy
Makes his comparison
Tripe and nonsense
Is my first thought
Quickly followed by
Why is the most
Incomparable living
Physical event
This miracle of creation
Used to attest
To so many efforts
Mundane, average
That anyone would
Reproduce with him
At last the only question

Mommy Is a Clean Freak

My children, they say
I’m a clean freak
Not so, I’m tidy
There are the dust bunnies
One can see them on hands and knees
Guests don’t crawl, not at my house anymore
The dust bunnies are safe;
I am neat, so I am safe
You’ll thank me one day
Or your husband or wife will
My liberal stance evident as they are all boys
I do not limit their play to clean
The ps3 to make beds
To scrub, mop, dust
Beyond normal limits
Does not interfere with
Enjoying their childhood fun
The whole time I’m talking the memory
That messy and dirty meant poor,
Unloved, uncared for
This is our home I say
I’m not comfortable
In a mess, it distracts me,
Makes me think of things I
Do not want my mind lingering on
Pick it up or it’s gone
I demand
It’s my house now
No clutter
Just do what I say
When you have your own house
You can be a self possessed secure person
In sloppiness
I was not wired that way
I’m sorry

Mommy Regrets

That blue dress, it was tight through the hips
Thank yous not written after receiving a gift
The extra cookie when I was already stuffed
Yelling too often when I’d just had enough
Little girl dreams I didn’t make come true
Saying good night without an I love you
Purchasing cards instead of creating my own
Feeling too busy to chat on the phone
Lunch dates promised but not ever made
Not stopping the bully, I was just too afraid
Packing my bags, always something I miss
Hurried goodbyes and forgetting the kiss
Not reaching out and holding you tight
Reminding you always it will soon be alright

A Passing Thought

I forget in the shower
The hot water calming my fears
Dissolving the accumulated grit
The water chills, and
My son’s recorder
Playing beyond the door, ajar
Reminds me of the life
I have no memory of choosing
A well I fell into looking for water
A child pretending to be a mom
A girl pretending to be a lover
Take care of me she pleads
Someone make it all better
At least lower a bucket
And I’ll pull myself out

A Catholic Woman Died

Her eulogy stated
her faith was a gift
A gift from whom
I ask myself silently
While the adult baby Jesus
Held in Joseph’s arms
Looks at me with gentle inquiry
His delicate white hand held
In a closed peace sign

Faith constructed from
Years of repetitive memorization
Words with no meaning, amen
Knees begging forgiveness
Doubt’s persistent nagging
Duty to sin’s guilt
Invisibly eating away
Faith hope and love
The greatest is love

Faith in the unbelievable
How does that do any good
Mary looks tired, the hovering
Metal halo over her head
Reminding us virginity is rewarded
Her lonely road begun with a
Visit from an angel then
A journey on a mule
Did her faith make her weary

Stumbling in my rote litany
They’ve changed the words
Since my last genuflection
In unmotivated obedience
To all that is seen and unseen
Always doing right for others
Strength in loss and love
It couldn’t have been easy
Her grace was the gift