A Better Mother? | A Guest Post by Sinead Kelleher
'Now I am a mother / With five real children / We are good and bad and in between.'
This post is coming to you on December 20th, my scheduled delivery date – peep the Instagram for updates! As such, I’ve cut down slightly on my workload, thanks to some incredibly talented writers who have lent me their skills for a series of guest posts.
Today’s, by Sinead Kelleher, is a poem about the expectations we place on ourselves as mothers, and those we place on our children as perfect little ciphers of, well, ourselves. I loved it, and I hope you will too. You can subscribe to Sinead’s work here.
A Better Mother
I was a better mother before I had children,
I was patient, I was full of life and joy.
My hypothetical family and I
Filled our days with endless laughter.
We'd play, we'd bake, we'd pass our time
In nature and eachother's company.
We'd delight when dusk would fall,
Because bedtime meant storytime
And storytime meant slipping into
Slow, sweet, slumber, the sound of
Mother's voice lulling their tired, happy
Bodies to the land of nod.
I had better children before I became a mother,
They were Good. They were full of sweetness and smiles
I watched these fantasy siblings
Fill their days with games and fun
They'd play, they'd laugh, they'd pass their time
In nature and eachother's company
And as dusk settled, they'd delight in hugs and kisses
And throw their arms around me
Begging for bedtime and stories so
Thay they may slip into a slow, sweet slumber
And for my voice to be the one that
Lulled them to the land of nod.
And now I am a mother,
With five real children,
We are good and bad and in between.
My very real family and I
Fill our days with ups and downs.
We fight, we laugh, we cry, we shout
In nature, and eachother's company.
And as the sun sets, at times
I'm filled with dread as I know
The battle that lies ahead.
For my children do not wish
for bedtime or sweet slumber.
They are wildlings that have no time for my voice, or the Land of Nod.
But fantasy children give fantasy kisses
Lacking the love of warm, fleshy squishes
Hypothetical mothers, while probably nice
Lack the love given in sacrifice.
And though I was most certainly a
Better Mother before I was made one
And I most certainly had better children
Before I made some, my life is forever
Changed, forever filled with love I
Can't describe in words,
Love that is better than any hypothesis
Better than all my fantasies.
But Good God, I wish they'd find their own way to the Land of Nod