Twas the night before Monday and all through the house
All the children were stirring, “Freakin’ kids,” said my spouse.
The laundry’s not folded and the dishes aren’t done,
I’m posting on Facebook so I don’t come undone.
My lists say I have much to do before bed
My delusions of super-mom flee from my head.
My husband is now snoring so loud on the couch
I’m considering a pillow placed over his mouth.
When back in the bedrooms there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my laptop to see what was the matter.
“Can’t you hear them!?!” I yelled to my comatose mate,
Stomped back to their bedrooms and yelled, “IT IS LATE!!”
“Tomorrow is Monday – to school you must go!”
(Not to mention the fact that your mom’s about to blow.)
“The dishes, the laundry, the backpacks to pack
Your lack of cooperation is a serious set back.”
Either the tone of my voice or the look in my eye,
Told my kids I meant business and not even to try
Any whining or fighting or asking for a drink
Any fussing or crying or raising a stink.
“Now David! Now Emily! Now Molly,” grumbled Keith
“Your bladders are empty and you brushed all your teeth!
He yawned ever so quietly and wiped the sleep out of his eye
In the hopes that he’d managed that nap on the fly.
Leaving Keith with the children away I did creep
Sometimes to find solace you have to be sleek
I walked by the laundry and glanced away from the kitchen
My to-do list isn’t worth all this misery and witchin’ 😉
Sending you wishes of cooperative kids
Who answer requests without counter bids
As we enter another week of fighting the good fight
May your little ones stay sleeping and to all a good night.
(Don’t worry. It is extremely, highly, 100% likely that this is my last venture into poetry. It’s what happens when you’re tired and staring at a blank word processing page. Clement Clarke Moore just rolled over in his festive grave.)