So you want to be a perfect mom,
Kids behave and body the bomb,
Look at families on sitcoms,
“I think we can be that awesome.”
It doesn’t ever work that way,
Every mom has a bad day,
Yell at kids, don’t want to play,
Unable to find sage things to say;
Just realize that that’s okay,
Those shows get cancelled anyway.
If you want to be the best,
Just be you and nothing less,
Kiss boo boos and help them dress,
Accept they’ll make occasional mess,
Perfection’s fiction and, more importantly,
There’s no one-size fit for every family,
And you fit perfectly in yours.
Perfect, Mom. Need I say more?
What’s a beach body?
Like the beach? Have a body?
That’s a beach body.
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School Day Morning
“Can I be sick,”
Out the door
Out of time
To the office
Get the kids
Another mom gasps
You’re in PJs
Shrug, oh well,
It’s one of those days
Happens to us
School day mornings
Aren’t they fun?
Girls Girls Girls
When I was but a young lad,
Of a house full of females I dreamt;
Now I’ve grown up and become a dad,
This isn’t quite what I meant.
Two girls who live to fight
Each other tooth and nail,
Bedtime is a chore each night,
One I often fail,
Then, the fact I did not believe
The fairer sex could be so gross,
But after potty what they leave
Sure don’t smell like a rose.
So, yes, I got my house of girls,
And it’s not quite what I expected,
But I wouldn’t change it for the world,
This house can’t be perfected.
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