Nitty Gritty Little Ditty

Tonight I cannot write a post
Because my brain has turned to toast.
The day has worn me to a nub,
I need to sink into the tub.
But can't because I'm too darn beat,
And find I cannot move my feet.

It's all their fault, this state of woe,
As every mom does surely know.
Theirs, the fault for my malaise.
Theirs, the fault for this dark haze.
For in the space past 5 o-clock,
My children hover and they stalk
Each other just to make me scream
So they can say YOU ARE SO MEAN.

Tonight the girls did cry and fight,
And test my patience with great might.
And bicker, bother, pick and poke
And hassle till my heart done broke.
They are nasty, brutish, short:
Hobbes was right, sad to report.

My spouse is out, I'm on my own.
Herding cats, all alone.
Then a toilet I had to fix.
And toss a dog into the mix.
(I found her on our dining table.
Chaos, people, is here enabled.)

And then I had to feed the crowd.
The complaints were both too many and loud.
Feeding ingrates ain't no fun,
Like bitterness inside a bun.
Breaking bread should be a blessing
But tonight, it ain't, I'm just confessing.

The boys: no better were these two;
They made me want to eat my shoe.
Oh yes, they're teens, it's DE VEL OP MENTAL
It's hormones, or it's elemental
Call it what you must or will,
Then call me in from the window sill,
Because mothering teens might do me in
And send me to the looney bin.

I think that I am being clear:
Do your homework.  I think they hear.
But then they don't, and then they start
To make up ways to test my heart.
They obfuscate, evade, and lie
They manipulate, they plead and cry,
They make me crazy, sho' enough.
I must leave them in a huff,
So that I do not scream and yell
Cuz them that do, don't parent that well.

I closed my door: time out I took.
And closed my eyes to take a look
Inside my heart, inside my brain
To find and soothe the place of pain
That comes from having angst and strife
With the ones for whom I'd give my life.

I made some vows, I shed some tears,
And then I reached across my fears.
Through the door, back to the fray
And darned if I didn't hear myself say:
"What did you say, honey? What do you need?"
Cuz I gotta remember, they'll follow my lead.
Grace under pressure, and patience galore.
That's what I'll pray for, evermore.
I'll need a ton of both, for good,
If I plan to make it to grandparenthood.

They kicked my butt 10 ways to Sunday.
But I'll keep raisin' 'em up till someday,
When they have young ones of their own,
And apology texts pop up on my phone.

* * *

Written 8 years ago. 

2021: Different problems, same exhaustion.