Monday, May 11, 2009


What am I to my children?
Well, sometimes I feel like nothing more than a blanket, bed, chair or pillow;
a cup-holder, spoon and source from which all food comes;
a communication devise which translates, delivers messages and interprets;
an encyclopedia and fount of all knowledge;
a tissue, napkin and towel;
a maid, servant, cook and laundress;
a toy, playmate, jungle-gym, entertainer and audience;
a doctor, nurse, psychologist, and pharmacy;
a hairdresser, stylist and social secretary.
I am a clock and time-keeper, scheduler and taxi driver.
But I am also a teacher and a coach.
Protector, bodyguard and private investigator.
The listener, the adviser, the shoulder to cry on.
I am comfort, discipline, rule maker and sage.
I need to be strength and provider, wisdom and understanding.
I must use good judgment, good humor and good intelligence and insight.
I mustn’t be too tired to laugh at silly jokes or to harsh in correction or to busy to hug.
I am a home, the port in a storm, the lap to crawl into when life hurts.
The title of mother has never felt so exhausting or challenging;
but neither has anything compared to its rewards and sense of satisfaction.
No other earthly role takes so much and gives so much back to the soul.
No other responsibility has caused me more heartache, sleepless nights or worry,
and no other has brought more joy or contentment.
What an amazing challenge and tremendous honor it is to be a parent.
Now could someone please add a few more hours to my days,
send me energy enough to compete with my kids,
clean my house, order me take-out, and send a masseuse to my house occasionally
and I’ll be just fine.

©KKW 2009

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