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Saturday, 13 September 2014

I was going to be . . .

I was going to be the parent who never raised her voice.
Who cooked you fresh organic food, bought only wooden toys.


Today I’ve screamed a thousand times and threatened measures drastic.
You’ve had chips, three times this week, and our lounge is full of plastic.

I was going to be the parent with a craft box fully stocked.
Tissue, card and googly eyes: a Pritt stick ready cocked.

But I found I couldn’t make stuff; my creations were pathetic.
And glitter makes me want to drink until I’m paralytic.

I was going to be the parent who made your birthday cake.
But after one horrendous fail, I’m now a shop-bought fake.

I was going to be the parent who kept every childhood something.
But I seem to have lost your lock of hair and your baby book has nothing.

I planned on baby massage, baby yoga, all things artistic.
What you got was: ‘baby watch whilst mummy eats her weight in biscuits.’

I thought I’d be the parent who loved her child a lot.
Kept them safe, fed them well and cleaned their stinky bot.

But the love I felt when you were born just knocked my off my feet.
A love that makes me place my hand just to feel your heart’s soft beat.

I may not be the parent that I first set out to be.
But I’m the parent that truly loves you and forever that I’ll be.  

Emma Robinson (2014)

Join Emma’s Facebook group at: www.facebook.com/motherhoodforslackers

 

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