i am a mom

i am a mom.

i truly believe i will get to the bottom of the pile of paper on my desk, will get the photos organized, ordered, and into albums, and even scrapbook them.

i am a mom.

i go to the store in my pajama pants and think no one notices because they are black.  the pants.  not the people.

i am a mom.

they notice.

i am a mom.

i wear my slippers too, but think it’s ok b/c there is a rubber sole.

i am a mom.

i put the vacuum away as you pull into the driveway.

i am a mom.

i always have corn on the floor.

i am a mom.

i think because i keep saying “i am a mom,” that makes this a poem.

i am a mom.

it doesn’t.

i am a mom.

i think i am funny with my poem reference, yet can almost see different women on my tv in black and white saying, “i am a mom.”  it’s a commercial for a disease or mother’s day or tissues or something of the like.  if the babies don’t sleep tonite, maybe i’ll LITERALLY see it. 

i am a mom.

i am the one who my babies want when they are tired, sick or stressed.

i am a mom.

sometimes i want to run away, but i don’t.  instead i eat candy corn mellowcreme pumkins. (47 cents at walmart today!)

i am a mom.

i am beginning to chat with daisy, peena, jessie and zoe-ah–holly’s imaginary friends.

i am a mom.

i am thrilled when jack poops and sing songs about it.

i am a mom.

i’ve lost my sanity.

i am a mom.

i never had it.