Friday, February 4, 2011

Mommy Poetry

I was just over at The Pioneer Woman's website.

I love that girl, Ree Drummond.

I want to be her when I grow up.

She has four kids, homeschools, cooks, helps her husband run their cattle ranch, is an amazing photographer, a great wife, and has published a cookbook and a romance novel.

And she's HILARIOUS.

Here are a few of her poems that I wanted to share with you.

Enjoy a laugh.

And being able to relate.

-------------------------
Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?
Their war cries pound my brain.
Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?
I slowly go insane.
Will you? Can I? Why not?
So goes the daily grind.
But wait–I am their mommy.
I love them.
Never mind.

Ree Copyright 2006
http://thepioneerwoman.com/blog/2006/05/poetry_of_a_madwoman_vol_2/


-------------------------------
I’m a pool of flesh.
A puddle of exhaustion on the dirty tile floor.
I can’t get up.
I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.
I have no button on a chain around my neck
With which to summon help.
Would that I did so I could be whisked away
In an ambulance.
Sirens blaring.
People staring.
I’d ask them to drop me off at a hotel.
Room service.
Maid service.
Laundry service.
Two days of this heaven
And I’d muster the strength to carry on.
Until next month.

Ree
Copyright 2006
http://thepioneerwoman.com/blog/2006/05/poetry_of_a_madwoman_vol_7/


---------------------------------------
If I ever lose my mind for good
It won’t be because of
The mundanity of my daily existence:
The clothes folded
The spills wiped
The dishes washed
Or the floors swept.
No, the abject tedium of domestic life
Will not be the death of my wits.
Instead it will be
That I was never allowed
To finish a thought in my head.
Seeing an idea through to completion
From beginning to end:
That is my solitary ambition.

Ree
Copyright 2006
http://thepioneerwoman.com/blog/2006/05/poetry_of_a_madwoman_vol_4/

-------------------------
I can’t
Give another bath
Or wipe another mouth
Or bottom
Or hand
Or wall.
I can’t
Wash another plate
Or pick up another toy
Or penny
Or sock
Or doll.
It’s futile.
Futility is my theme.
It’s my legacy
And my song.
It follows me from room to room
All.
Day.
Long.

Ree
Copyright 2006


(By the way --- I ADORE my kids and am so blessed to be a stay-at-home mom.  Don't get the wrong ideas from these poems.  It's just...you know...sometimes.......)

Love,
Ginny

2 comments:

Anjie said...

Thanks for everything!

Caneel said...

YES, I know! SOMETIMES! I was having these same thoughts yesterday and needed to read these! When JT came home for lunch yesterday I was near tears in the middle of making another recipe and upset b/c I felt like, at that moment, all I did was wash dishes and listen to whining.