I complain
about having not a moment to myself until I am exhausted,
and about the chaos of my car,
my house,
my day-
about crushed goldfish and juice stains,

showers with little hands opening the curtain
to make sure I am there
when all I want to do is breathe in coconut conditioner
as it rolls down my back

and about the shifts I’m pulling:
split shift domestic duty,
full-time-straight-through

professional,
and per requested need social shift.
There is not a me shift anymore, unless you count sleep,
which wouldn’t count for much.

And I complain about soft thighs and late paperwork
(which, to be perfectly honest, have really been a problem all along),
and the whole babysitter fiasco
just for an overpriced lemon chicken and a hangover;

and the coffee addiction that I actually enjoy

But I know in the back of my mind
how all too soon she no longer needed me to carry her,
And how fast 6 months goes
when you look at a box of clothes she’ll never wear again
and you can think of sitting her on your lap
and blowing bubbles at the picnic table while cars passed by
and she was wearing that yellow onesie with the flower…

She already knows the words “go away”

The days of plastic purple play shoes and silly hats
are far shorter than the days I will have time
to paint my nails and go to gallery crawls

and I never really cared about a clean car anyway.

I chose this one for this week because Alisa mentioned a blog I wrote last year on motherhood and I thought she (and my other mom friends, soon-to-be-mom friends, or one-day-want-to-be-mom friends) would appreciate it.