Mommy’s Mind

 

I do not mind the sleepless nights,

The crying jags, the petty fights.

I do not mind the poopy diapers,

The burps, the slurps, or snot-nose wipers.

I do not mind the endless whining,

Or chores half-done that need reminding.

I do not mind my lack of showers,

Or that I don’t have super-powers.

I do not mind my absent free time,

Or that my savings is now a dime.

I do not mind my lack of privacy,

But there is one thing I mind, you must see:

     After feeding my baby good things to eat,

     I HATE FEELING STICKY RICE BENEATH MY FEET!

Oh, yes.  It’s that time again.  Baby Jack has entered the self-feeding phase of life.  Good news: I get to eat my dinner hot.  Bad news: 15 minutes of Jack-specific cleaning just got added to the end of every meal.  And the rice on the floor.  THE RICE ON THE FLOOR!  It’s impossible to pick up Jack without stepping on it, but it turns to mush on my broom if I sweep it before it hardens.  Ok, I’ve got it: pasta every night for the next six months.  Prego!