Tag: poem

An Ode to Mother’s Day

It comes around just once a year,
A day of celebration,
And recognition of all that mums do,
Beginning with creation,
Though granted, they didn’t do it alone,
The dads made a contribution,
But it’s not the men who are pregnant 9 months
Coping with added weight distribution,
Till the end of gestation when baby emerges
Through a design, quite flawed by dimension
Think melon and nostril and you’ll get the picture,
And the pain’s probably also worth a mention,
Or out through the tummy, a passage created,
With the flick of the surgeons sharp knife
Means a longer recovery, but baby’s here safely,
And the scar fades a lot through your life,
The sleepless nights follow, the boobs grow impressive,
To proportions never imagined before,
And the nappies keep coming, and the teething and tantrums
Toddler terrors, threenagers and more,
Cut knees to be treated and bumps to be kissed,
The scrapes keep a coming no matter
As the walls they are scaled and the trees, just a challenge,
And your furniture is left all a tatter,
Redesigned kitchen walls, and phones down the toilet,
Surprises, you find every day,
Need to hide all your treats, cos the kids they can sense them,
And eat them all, much to your dismay,
Then there’s homework and projects, all needing attention,
But kids are resisting so much,
And you feel you’ll go crazy, as battles continue,
Over English and Maths and all such,
But on mothering Sunday, all is forgotten,
You’ll think of how lucky you are,
When the cards are presented, and the pictures drawn carefully
Loving messages sent from afar,
Cause no matter our age, or the age of our children,
A mum knows how lucky she is
Though the hours are long and the terms need some tweaking,
We know being a mum is the biz.
Still on mothering Sunday, appreciation is welcomed,
And mums could all do with a rest
It’s just twenty four hours in a very long year,
So enjoy it mums, cos you’re the best!

Those Friday Feels

It’s Friday night, you know the the feels, 
The weekend stretches out, 
It’s time to relax, kick off our shoes, 
And “FREEDOM ” we can shout, 
From all stresses of the week,
The things that drive us crazy,
The work and traffic and school runs,
There’s no time to be lazy,
Tomorrow’s not a working day,
No hectic morning to dread,
Cos Friday evening is our time
Once the kids have gone to bed
So what to do, and how to chill
Is what we now must ponder,
Sweet or fruity, red or white
Of which type am I fonder?
Then pour a glass and settle down,
Remote in hand securely,
Peppa banished for another day,
And grown-up programmes purely,
It’s Friday evening and we own it
Relaxed, no we’re not boring,
At 9 O’clock, I’m wine in hand
By ten you’ll hear me snoring 😴

An Ode to Valentine’s Day

Valentine’s is here again,
And love is in the air,
There’s gifts exchanged of chocolate
And flowers and underwear
And soppy cards, with romantic rhymes,
That detail endless love,
To darling partners everywhere,
Alleged angels from above,
But let’s be honest, things really change
When children come along,
It’s a different romance that us mums need
A change from the familiar song
Of “Mammy mammy where are you,
I spilt my juice on the floor,
Please wipe my bum, and find my shoes
Oh mammy my knee is sore!
I need new pencils by tomorrow
My viking project is due
We need to bake cakes for Friday’s sale
And I’ve run out of all my glue
I’ve had a bad dream, can I sleep in your bed?
Oh now I need a drink,
Mammy quick, the fairy won’t come
My tooth’s fallen down the sink!”
So darling partners everywhere,
In this romantic season,
Just think of how you can show your love,
For no particular reason,
And see to the kids when they are calling
And let their mammy sleep,
Clean all the bums, and do the projects
And you’ll be one to keep.
And even if you’re a hero already
And everything is fine
Buy something special to treat your dearest
A practical gift, like wine!
Happy Valentine’s Day everyone ❤❤ Jen.x

Sunday Night Syndrome

It’s Sunday Night, you know the drill,
It never seems, to change,
Lunches to make, ahead of school,
And uniforms to arrange,
All neatly at the end of beds,
When they’ve come through the laundry,
Except for the missing pieces of course
Therein begins the quandary,
Where could they be, the kids deny
They put them anywhere,
Except in the wash-basket of course,
And into space they stare,
“Yes definitely there, I remember it well,
Straight after we had our bath”
I look in disbelief at them,
Knowing generally there’s a path,
Of clothes that they leave in their wake,
All strewn across the floor,
One sock here, and a shirt over there,
Underpants hanging from the door,
A frantic search begins upstairs,
As shoes are missing too,
A white runner is under one bed,
But the one we need is blue,
Ah here it is, in the underwear drawer,
I really should have thought,
And the trousers are there, under baby’s cot,
Just a jumper now is sought,
Hurray more washing on Sunday night,
Just what every mother needs,
And fun and games to get them dry,
Visions of an early night recedes,
Yes it’s Sunday night you know the drill,
As the week ahead is beckoning,
But I won’t be able to sleep tonight,
It’s a syndrome by my reckoning!

The Homework Poem

T’was the first day of new term
A scene that’s well known
On the dining room table
The school books were thrown
The children were wailing
At the thought of the chore
While the parents were reminded
There’s nothing they hate more
Than the prospect of Maths
And English aplenty
Spellings “as gaeilge”
Learning how to count to twenty,
The stand-off continues
Much longer than should
As the troops battled homework
As hard as they could
A project is mentioned
A twist of the knife
In an afternoon filled
With stresses and strife
And united all parents
In their heads scream so wild
“I hate homework more now
Than when I was a child!

An Ode to Christmas

It’s Christmas week, the countdown’s on
Til Santa’s on his way
With lots of gifts for girls and boys
All loaded on his sleigh,
The kids are filled with Christmas cheer,
Excited by the season,
While mums and dads rush everywhere,
And shopping is the reason,
For all the family and everyone’s friends,
Teachers and neighbours too,
Houses to clean and turkeys to buy
So very much to do
And panic, panic, rushing on,
Becomes the assumed position,
No lack of money or shortage of time,
Can thwart the Christmas mission,
All must be perfect in every respect,
And new traditions made,
Such pressure on all, to get it right,
Not enough attention paid,
To remember the things that matter most,
During this special time of year,
That we’re surrounded by those we love,
The people we hold dear,
No shop bought gift, or internet bargain,
A person’s place can take,
Around the table or on the couch,
And so for happiness sake,
Just take a breather, enjoy the moment
Engage in lots of niceness,
If you have good health and people to love,
Then your Christmas gifts are priceless.

 

 

T’was the night before midterm

T’was the night before midterm,
And all through the schools,
The walls were adorned,
With witches and ghouls,
The teachers were smiling,
At the thought of a break,
While the parents they pondered
What childcare route to take,
The children were dreaming,
Of Zombies in beds,
While visions of pumpkins,
Danced in their heads,
And Halloween planning,
Of costumes galore
With make up and masks,
Were right at the fore,
Of every child’s thoughts,
As the big day drew near
With the hope of creating,
A real sense of fear,
In every poor neighbour,
They’d encounter and meet,
When they called to their door
And said “trick or treat”,
Then return home with bags,
Filled with sweets and crisps plenty,
Try to eat them all quickly,
Until it is empty,
So the sugar filled kids,
You can picture the scene,
Won’t be sleeping that night,
Have a Happy Halloween! 🎃

An Ode to Breastfeeding

Breast is best, we’ve heard it said,
There’s nothing can compare,
As long as practiced discreetly of course,
So people, they won’t stare,
Cos you might put them off their food,
If Boobies they did see,
While trying to have a wrap or roll,
With their coffee or their tea,
And even if your baby cries,
With hunger for a feed,
Find somewhere out of people’s gaze,
A toilet, if you need,
After all the comfort of mum and babe,
Is very important too,
And baby will still enjoy their lunch
Surrounded by wee and poo,
Exhibitionist mums, please be aware,
And think of others’ feelings,
Don’t whip ’em out for all to see,
Directing gazes to the ceilings,
Cos Boobs are fine for porn and mags,
For Ads and T.V maybe,
The only time they cause offence,
Is when you’re feeding baby!
😉 Happy Breastfeeding week everyone. Jen.x

An Ode to “The School Drill”

September’s here and school is back,
The weeks are passing quickly,
Routines take hold, familiar scenes,
The kids start feeling sickly,
In staggered sequence, so it goes,
For maximum disruption,
And working parents everywhere,
Fear a volcanic-like eruption,
As they explain to bosses dear,
That leave is badly needed,
Cos Johnny, Sam and Sarah too,
By sickness are impeded,
From going back to school that day
And so they’ll miss the letter
That tells you headlice is back again
Scratching won’t make it better,
Activities of different kinds,
Will feature every day,
Football, piano, swimming too,
There’s little time to play.
The homework’s back, the pain is real,
A battle has resumed,
With projects mounting by the week,
The parents are consumed,
With a dread they never felt before,
When they were back at school,
But dreading won’t dispel the task,
They need keep their cool,
And coax reluctant school kids on,
Remind them what’s at stake,
‘Cos homework’s here to stay for now,
Until the mid term break!

An ode to “Back to School”

The new school year is drawing near,
The teachers start to cry,
While parents empty bank accounts,
For school books they must buy,
And uniforms and bags galore,
Shoes and runners are a must,
And pencils, pens and rulers too,
Parents feel that they’ll go bust!
There’s books to cover,
A lovely task,
And then they’ll need a label,
As do the crayons, and lots of pens,
Which adorn the kitchen table.
The hope in labelling every one,
Is that they won’t get lost.
That the kids will take good care of them.
After all the mounting cost.
But hopes are not enough I fear,
When it comes to lunchbox lids,
Which disappear in the first few days,
Lost by those pesky kids.
And pencil cases filled to the brim,
At the beginning of September,
By two weeks in, will be quite bare,
Because the kids, they won’t remember,
Where they’ve left their pens and pencils
Or parers or rulers either,
You’ll feel your hard work was all in vain.
You’ll need to take a breather.
It’s the same old drill each and every year,
With a lesson that makes you pensive,
With all the costs when you add it up,
Free education is expensive!