What do mothers do all day!
I hear myself, exasperated say.
It is spring break for them, for me
and I'm not sure which feels more free!
(insert hysterically giddy laugh)
There's no math lessons, no drills
of which to grit our teeth.
No piles of readings,
worlds of words with meanings beneath,
No-how do you spell 'usually'
or trying to identify some blooming tree
No shushing the screamer who wants another 'nack
No spelling rules (drop the y) to keep track
No pulling together of 4 different orbits
Or preaching sermons from 4 different pulpits
No hysteric calming (theirs or mine)
We just roam about with oodles of time...
I organize my bathroom closets, my pantry!
even sort the sordid clean laundry
I start to paint, to write, to draw!
I watch a movie-then 3 more
I plan my month's menus-
like never before
(I even think about mopping the floor.)
But I forget to read stories aloud for an hour
I let slip the scheduled scripture power
I miss hearing piano
and seeing them play
I fall into projects that take all day
The children are gone morning to night
with their friends, outside, then come home to fight
It's a free for all-almost
An instructional educational-coast
I walk from the shore toward the sound of sirens
Of time to think, to create, just silence.
Then Monday sends us all back, one week from the day
home to schedules and boundaries all gone astray
and it's good to be home, I say
those things,
those creations,
that organized bliss
is meant for another season
not this.
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