And you are angry at her for being careless and silly
You are angry because you wanted to write
and now… and now,
after a whole day spent being mum,
when you desperately wanted to write,
you have to be mum for another half an hour.
You are angry because you feel this way.
You are angry because you had shut the door
that hurt her finger.
All the logical explanations about
she should not have kept her finger there don’t cut ice.
She’s old enough to know better doesn’t cut ice.
You are angry because you were so tired
that you scolded her for placing her finger near the door.
You are angry as you watch those tears stream down
because of all the things you can handle on earth
her tears are not one of them.
You are angry because you are tired.
You are angry because she doesn’t blame you.
You are angry because she agrees with you
– she was being careless.
Damn it! You are angry.
Motherhood is one bloody ride
You are angry because you can’t forgive yourself.
This is a poem I had written a few years ago. I love being a mom. It is a full time job. I love writing. It too is a full time job. There are only 24 hours in a day. Final result – I was often left feeling frayed and irritable trying to just hang on to some sense of identity.
Now as my daughter battles a rare sarcoma and recovers from a surgery, I am left amazed at how much we take for granted and how ridiculously small and unimportant everything else looks when we are brought up hard against mortality. I can’t relive those years again, but I have promised myself that going forward I will slow down enough to enjoy the moments – with my family and by my own self. To hell with what the world thinks a successful life should look like.