Mother: Hormonal Thoughts For the Day.

I am Mother.

Hands and knees, scraping cereal bar that has adhered itself to the tile.

Scraping.

I am Mother.

Juice spilt on the floor, catching it a moment too soon, slipping.

Slipping.

I am Mother.

Hot pan with buttery grilled cheese, smelling delicious, then burning. Smoke.

Cursing.

I am Mother.

Trash piled high to trash can lid. Can I fit one more piece?

Cramming.

I am Mother.

Baby crawling, hits head on chair, toddler jumping, stubs toe on table. Mom is spinning.

Spinning.

I am Mother.

Heat it up one more time, pushing buttons on microwave, cup of coffee must last and last.

Caffeinating.

I am Mother.

Last plate, last cup, last spoon. Dishwasher is full. Countertops wiped.

Cleaning.

I am Mother.

Sing a Song a Sixpence, Little Blue Truck, prayers of thankfulness.

Teaching.

I am Mother.


Collapsing in bed, exhausted from the day, no coherent thoughts or words.

Mumbling.

Day is finally done, eyes are closing, body is resting. Sleep beckons.

Beckoning.

I am Mother.




Tip-toeing out of bed, cell phone flash light, cracking open their doors while they sleep.

Peeking.

Sighing.

Teary.


Smiling.


I am Mother.



Have a lovely day.