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 the 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 yourbaby book has nothing. I planned on baby massage, baby yoga, all things artistic, What you got was: ‘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. (Not written by me, saw and liked it!)
Posted on: Tue, 16 Sep 2014 21:15:27 +0000
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