It's 4 AM, my light goes on.
My son creeps in, I know somethings wrong.
He says those words all mothers dread,
"I just threw up all over my bed".
"Are you OK" I think to ask,
while deep inside I'm dreading the task.
He's better now, the pain is gone.
It's times like this I hate being Mom.
I plug my nose, try to hold it in,
pull off the sheets and force a grin.
At least he kept his barf confined
or I would have lost more than my mind.
It's wandering off to my happy place,
trying not to think of the task I face.
I tell myself I'm the cleaning crew
at a 5-star hotel, in the Carribbean too.
The slime I try to rinse down the sink
is a pina-colada from someones spilt drink.
I think I'll go snorkling at the end of my shift,
Oh who am I kidding, this sheet smells like...
well, you get the drift.
The sheets are washing, a clean set put on,
I tell Trey good-night as I let out a yawn.
My head hits the pillow, I try to sleep
but I'm now wide awake, counting sheep.
I'm just dozing off at 6 AM
when I hear running feet and then a 'BHAM'
He's at it again, my poor little guy,
I'm hoping he made it, I'd sure hate to cry.
I find him leaning over the john,
the contents of his stomach gone.
I'm afraid to ask, but need to know,
"did you make it on time, or did you blow?"
"I tried to keep my mouth shut tight,
the hallway was dark and I didn't get the light.
I ran head-first into the wall
which made me spwew some down the hall."
Again I'm scrubbing, this time the floor.
It's not too bad, I've done this before.
Then back to bed I try once more
while my husband, oblivious, softly snores.
You might be wondering why he sleeps
while I do all the work without a peep,
let's say I learned from my mother dear,
who learned long ago, about 40 years.
My sister was sick, you know what I mean,
so my Mom asked my Dad to help her clean.
He tried, bless his heart, to help with the mess,
but the smell, the chunks, he just couldn't suppress.
Next thing Mom knew she had double the work,
and cleaning up man puke is not a nice perk.
Never again did she ask for his aid,
so now you know why I'm a little afraid.
Let them smash the big spiders and open tight jars,
change the light bulbs and keep up the cars.
When your child turns green and their cookies display,
remember one thing,'KEEP YOUR MAN FAR AWAY'
My son creeps in, I know somethings wrong.
He says those words all mothers dread,
"I just threw up all over my bed".
"Are you OK" I think to ask,
while deep inside I'm dreading the task.
He's better now, the pain is gone.
It's times like this I hate being Mom.
I plug my nose, try to hold it in,
pull off the sheets and force a grin.
At least he kept his barf confined
or I would have lost more than my mind.
It's wandering off to my happy place,
trying not to think of the task I face.
I tell myself I'm the cleaning crew
at a 5-star hotel, in the Carribbean too.
The slime I try to rinse down the sink
is a pina-colada from someones spilt drink.
I think I'll go snorkling at the end of my shift,
Oh who am I kidding, this sheet smells like...
well, you get the drift.
The sheets are washing, a clean set put on,
I tell Trey good-night as I let out a yawn.
My head hits the pillow, I try to sleep
but I'm now wide awake, counting sheep.
I'm just dozing off at 6 AM
when I hear running feet and then a 'BHAM'
He's at it again, my poor little guy,
I'm hoping he made it, I'd sure hate to cry.
I find him leaning over the john,
the contents of his stomach gone.
I'm afraid to ask, but need to know,
"did you make it on time, or did you blow?"
"I tried to keep my mouth shut tight,
the hallway was dark and I didn't get the light.
I ran head-first into the wall
which made me spwew some down the hall."
Again I'm scrubbing, this time the floor.
It's not too bad, I've done this before.
Then back to bed I try once more
while my husband, oblivious, softly snores.
You might be wondering why he sleeps
while I do all the work without a peep,
let's say I learned from my mother dear,
who learned long ago, about 40 years.
My sister was sick, you know what I mean,
so my Mom asked my Dad to help her clean.
He tried, bless his heart, to help with the mess,
but the smell, the chunks, he just couldn't suppress.
Next thing Mom knew she had double the work,
and cleaning up man puke is not a nice perk.
Never again did she ask for his aid,
so now you know why I'm a little afraid.
Let them smash the big spiders and open tight jars,
change the light bulbs and keep up the cars.
When your child turns green and their cookies display,
remember one thing,'KEEP YOUR MAN FAR AWAY'
6 comments:
Oh sis, so sorry about your bad night. That has got to be about the worst sound in the middle of the night!
I love your poem, you made me laugh until tears were streaming down my face. It's a good thing God knew what he was doing when he created a mother's love.
You are so clever linda! Men... check this out..http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VbmbMSrsZVQ... You will get a kick out of this one. Have a great day!
Hope Trey is better. and you don't catch it. I laughed at your comments it brought back some memories.
Oh... I can feel a children's book coming on! MaKell can illustrate!
Seriously, you write poems like no ones business. I laughed and laughed... Charmaine can't relate though; she is the one that even if you mention you are feeling like throwing up, she's the one that will hurl! If you say you are feeling light headed, SHE will pass out! It's happened twice I think! So, poor Ross... he had to pick up the puke.
So, I read it to SKip too and he is impressed, thinks your cute and that you need to be published. There you have it. The entire Jackson family will not rest til you get published. Maybe start with the newspaper? That's a poem that must be shared.
You are such a great writer. So sorry that he was sick and that you were on duty. ha ha. 24/7...no weekends, holidays or breaks. Benefits are great most of the time. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help you guys out (from a distance). Get better Trey
Post a Comment