What Was Sown

That brute, Igor Wilhelm, got older each day

while sitting alone on his porch,

his once-strapping shoulders, a wilting display,

his words finding no one to scorch.

Way back in the day, he directed his brood

by yelling and swinging a belt,

those caught in his path all subject to his mood.

He’d brand them each day with a welt.

One night he fell down and called Junior for aid,

which drained the last charge from his phone.

His grown son decided it’s time that he paid,

and left him, to languish, alone.

Illegitimi Non Carborundum

 Don’t ever let the bastards get you down.

Don’t give them what they want and take the fall.

Brush off your fear and turn yourself around.

Make sure they all can see you standing tall.

You’re so much better than their lies and hate,

far stronger than their arrogance and greed,

no side show in the circus they create …

there’s nothing state-of-mind can’t supersede.

To live well is the fiercest counterblow.

Deprive them of their precious schadenfreude.

Take charge and redefine the status quo,

and never let them know you’ve been annoyed.

It’s easier to be said than be done.

I promise, if you do it, though, you’ve won.

The Row

The screaming curls the hairs upon my neck.

I recognize the shout before the tears.

I, being whom I am, get up to check

to find the scene has justified my fears.

The smaller child is thrown upon the ground.

The larger one has punched him in the face.

I interfere, as lots of blood is found.

The older one I soon put in his place.

The other children gathered ’round to see

have split apart as soon as I arrive,

the perpetrator proud as he could be,

the victim grateful he is still alive.

“They’re brothers!” says my son. “Don’t stop their fight.

It’s not your job to see if they’re alright.”

Vacation

I pack up every outfit they will wear.

I gather entertainment for the car.

I bring the booster seat for any chair.

I answer questions (most about “how far?”).

I feed them first, and then my food is cold.

I take them to the bathroom if I must.

I make sure tummy aches are all controlled.

I comfort children anytime they’ve fussed.

I pack again each time we leave hotels.

I wash out underwear along the way.

I disinfect when led to messy smells.

I take in stride each problem and delay.

I hear vacation’s nice, relaxing fun.

I might find out someday (when childhood’s done).

 

Dinner Party

As soon as they arrive the mood is light,

strong appetites accompanying all,

the music and the table set just right.

My canapés do no less than enthrall.

They audibly appreciate the food,

“Yum-yum!”ing, “I want more!”ing, and the such,

all standing by the hors d’oeuvres like they’re glued,

all saying that they love my food so much.

The compliments don’t ever seem to end.

Each course I serve tops what could not be topped.

The flavors fuse to yield the perfect blend.

I’m Queen of All the Cooks! I can’t be stopped!

It worked with toddlers. Soon, I’ll try adults …

if only I can mimic the results!

The Lap of Luxury

I finally have folded all the clothes.

I washed the dishes and put them away.

I smothered all the bonfires that arose.

I cleaned up all the finger paint and clay.

I planned out all the meals we’ll eat this week.

I purchased the supplies they need for school.

I made the time to “play” some hide-n-seek.

I took them all for swimming at the pool.

I helped the eldest find his poster board.

I scraped the bubble gum from Boo-Boo’s hair.

I straightened out the wireless router cord.

I treated all the stains in underwear.

“You used to work before you had a kid?”

Sigh. ‘Once upon a time, I guess I did.’

“Not Me!”

I’m not quite sure who “Not me!” is, but he acts up a lot,

for when I ask, ‘Who did this?’ it’s the answer you’ve all got!

“Not me!” “Not me!” “Not me!” come your three voices, loud and clear.

You all must think I’m stupid, ’cause you all sound so sincere.

Oh, sure, it wasn’t one of you who put snails in my shoe …

that’s something that a 6 year old would never think to do.

You’re saying maybe I had left the milk outside to rot?

 “Not me!” appears to be the only patsy that you’ve got.

Perhaps it was your father who poured soda in the plant?

See, I would love to blame him, but that’s crazy, so I can’t.

I also know he’s not the one who left the water on,

or drew with my mascara until it’s completely gone.

I can’t imagine using magic marker on the cat,

or leaving a green puddle on the sofa where I sat.

The dog can’t use a doorknob, so he cannot let in flies.

He really is an animal; it’s not some great disguise.

It’s not like Grandma wets a slice of bread and puts it back.

If Grandpa ate that bacon grease, he’d have a heart attack!

Your cousins haven’t been here in at least a month or two.

Through process of elimination, it was one of you!

I’ve heard “Not me!” so much that now I’m starting to believe,

though I know it’s ridiculous … exceedingly naive.

But said with such conviction, that I’ve taught you all to use,

it’s tempting to just disregard the pile of damning clues.

I know I’ll have revenge when you three have kids of your own.

But in the meantime, I guess I must wait until you’re grown.

 

 

Little Child

My little child, I’ve seen you grow so tall.

The top shelf is no match for you these days.

How times have changed from when you used to crawl!

You’re so mature  in oh so many ways.

You’re using words I have to look up now.

Your grasp of physics now surpasses mine.

You’ve learned, yourself; I need not show you how.

I wish I could reverse the march of time.

You’re old enough to make kids of your own.

Though, if you’ve listened, you won’t do it yet.

I bask in the good judgment that you’ve shown,

and hope the things I’ve taught, you won’t forget.

(And when you snap the photos that I’m in,

your height helps hide my horrid double chin!!!)

🙂

Adolescents

So, you want to be treated like adults?

Then you’d better start acting that way.

When I ask you just what you were thinking,

you have nothing (that’s lucid) to say.

“Can’t remember” because you’re “too tired?”

Then you’d better start getting some sleep,

’cause you’re going to need to think clearly ALL day

if this freedom is something you’ll keep!!!

“I forgot.” “I don’t know.” “I don’t get it.”

Well, then clearly, you’re not an adult.

Jamming your head so far up your own ass

is what yields, once again, this result.

Fool me just two times, and it’s shame on You.

But fool me three times, shame on Me.

Revoking your privileges only makes sense.

Ask again in a year and we’ll see.

 

 

 

 

The Step-Parent

I just don’t care that they don’t have my blood.

I’m sure that that could not, of import, be.

‘Cause either way their shoes will crust with mud.

And still the same, their laughter transmits glee.

I hear them breathe soft sighs as slumber comes

while strapped within the seat belts in my car.

My table’s just as dirty with the crumbs.

They giggle watching Grover’s NEAR and FAR.

I love them and I hope their dreams come true,

and that their lives are filled with joy, not pain.

And anything to keep them safe I’d do.

A love like this a person could not feign.

 I don’t care that I cannot make my own

when it will satisfy to see these grown.

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