Journal. Breathe. Accept. Change.
Be mindful.
But ugh the kids won’t stop screaming at me.
I can’t pick the right YouTube video to cast upon the screen.
I can’t ever be entertaining enough, unless you’re squishing me.

You don’t want the food,
You don’t want your drink,
You just sculled your bottle,
And now you’re bored of me.

Outside its wet, and too muddy,
Mummys warm clothes no longer fit,
She’s just done her back in,
The inspection is looming,
N mums got a headache.

Children, stop screaming at me.

When I place you on the floor,
Let you pick your own movie,
When I’ve left the room,
And once I’ve shut the door,

I hear your happy burbles,
And the calm, content.

Why is it that I feel shot with a guilty mummy complex.

When I’m not in the room,
Your happy babbles fill the air,
Happy with the toy in front of you,
All I wanted was to show you I care.

The backlash is harsh,
For when you’re stuck on the floor,
And I rush in to help you,
You’re asking for more.

I keep trying,
I move you,
I give you a song,
I try and engage but you won’t sing along…

You want to play,
Not with me again today,
It seems like your hearts content like before.

The mum guilt pains me,
Right here in my chest,
I know that you love me,
Am I only good for rest?

I guess I can go to God for fulfilment,
I wish I could cuddle my children for a moment,
Not sick, not angry, not screaming at me,
Not tired, not lonely,
Just a cuddle to be.
To love and to show you that I care for you,
And perhaps to lift my spirits when I’m feeling a bit blue…

So I will be disheartened,
And I will turn to God.
He’s got my fulfillment,
My contentment,
He holds the sentiment,
Ready to go.

So I shall bow my head,
And I will pray,
God send me this happiness from your heart today,
Send me some joy, that I can be glad, that my kids rely upon me when they are mad.