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Rachel Joyce Headshot

A Limerick for the Mom of Littles

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My children are so needy,
they want me all day long.
I'll just sit down to crappy coffee,
their cue to yell their wanting songs.

"Can't find my shoe!" "My teeth hurt!"
"The sugar cereal's gone!"
"Our little sister's diaper smells!"
"We left posh toys out on the lawn!"

"Mom, you haven't changed your shirt,
your armpits make me gag.
Why can't you look like my friend's mom?
Her boobs don't even sag!"

I never make his coffee right,
my husband likes to say.
Last night he looked upon my face,
"Your chin hair's turning gray!"

Some mornings I wake up and think,
"I'll lie here real, real still.
I know! I'll fake at being sick!
The questions quit when I am ill!"

The baby eats cheese popcorn
off the middle of the floor.
The vacuum in the corner shrieks,
"I HAVE TO CLEAN SOME MORE?"

I drive my kids to Chuck E. Cheese,
hip music turned way high.
Some high school boys stopped next to us
laugh so hard it makes me cry.

I may just drive a minivan
My coolness all but gone.
But when little arms surround my neck,
I'm fine with "Barney" on.

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