Poem inspired by (the tough days of ) Motherhood!

(1 Post)
user1479297478 Wed 16-Nov-16 12:08:06

Hello all,
I'm new here..sort of. I have used mumsnet before but just signed up again after a while away.
I penned a poem the other night after a tough day parenting and thought I'd share it. Hopefully some of you will relate. It sounds a bit sad, but it was just one of those days when you feel right of the bottom of the pile! xx

Help me up from the bottom of this pile would you?

See me here, look, underneath these dirty school uniforms, and piles of clothes that don't belong to me.

Help me up, give me a heave, I'm right here if you just push aside those piles of letters from school, the requests for cakes, and money, and costumes, and time,

Could you just pull me up, I'm stuck here getting nowhere, I'm chasing my tail, maybe that's why you don't see me...I'm a blur as I try to reach the end of the list, to make the ends meet I stretch my own arms until they hurt, so I'm here, you can't miss me really not if you really look.

Could you just give me a hand, my finger tips are here, stretching out
Hang on, let me shake off the guilt, is that better? I know it hangs so heavy, it disguises me, is that what it is?

Let me dust myself off, I'm covered in, wait, oh it's, it's ink from the writing practice, paint from the playing we did, mud from the park trip and snot from the three of us.
It's food from the meals I make, I'm sorry I can't make more, it's damp from the clothes I wash it's dirt from everything, all the stuff, I endlessly pick up from the floor.

If you just pull me up, you'll soon see that it's me, I'm just hidden by worry, lost somewhere amidst trying to be the best for them, for us.

I'm here look, right here if you lift up my chin, look past my racing mind and see the bit that still says 'me'.

Would you mind? Can you just lift me? I wouldn't normally ask. It's just I've run out of hands, my arms are busy carrying, my legs have too many jobs to do and now I, well, I'm not sure I can get up.

I'll be fine with a hand, I'll keep going once I'm there I just need a moment, I'll catch my breath and check the list again and be off.

I might have to do it one handed. I'm carrying the youngest one of us.

I grew her and fed her and she loves me, I know. I know because she prefers to be carried, she likes things just so

She likes me to hold her while I cook, clean and eat she will never ever ever let go.

And that's OK, because neither will I, I'll hold her while she needs me, I'll do all that I can. But, if I could lean on you occasionally when I'm tired, if you could listen with humour when I moan about water, or something someone said,
It would possibly help to gently remind me of who I really am.

Sorry if you didn't catch all that, I'm sorry if you don't see me, I'll say these things, I'll stretch out my hand, I'll try to keep whispering but I might be getting louder.

I'm down here, you see, I'm under all this stuff. It's not mine but I, well, I'm the keeper, the curator, the caretaker of all these lives. I guess I'm just minding things, I'm coaxing them and loving them with all I have until they fly.

But I might have to shout. Because now and then I fade away, I begin to get too covered, the walls start falling in.

And so If I didn't scream, if I didn't throw some of this stuff in the air you might not realise, you might not notice all that is buried under there.

So help me up from the bottom of the pile would you? See me here, under all of our stuff. Help me up, if you notice me, I'd like to get back to the top.

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