I'm woken on this mothers' day
to such a perfect sight:
two golden heads, they lift the blinds
and sun is streaming bright
onto the tray they've brought for me
of tea, organic toast,
and gifts and handmade cards. They ask
which I will like the most.
Perhaps the little broach my son
chose himself and bought
to match the colour of my eyes.
Such love, such taste and thought!
Or maybe it's his sister's gift,
a scarf, that I'll prefer.
I say I'll wear it and each time
I do I'll think of her.
My children, I don't like to boast,
are really quite amazing.
Uncommon in their aptitude,
their dilligence and training.
Tiny Tim, though only three,
already writes his name.
His sister, Sally, you'll agree
is destined to much fame.
She leads her class at little gym
She climbs and sommersaults
so beautifully, and just last week
she shimmied up a rope.
And all the other mothers stopped
their chatter and they stared
to see my daughter shine.
I'm sure they think it isn't fair
that God bestows unevenly.
One child and not another
he gifts. I lift my eyes and say
"Well, you should see her brother!"
I don't blame them. The world needs both
the common and the high.
They'll keep their feet upon the ground
while me and mine will fly.
"My kids aren't perfect," I explain,
"Sometimes they'll fight and yell.
One child insists of Mozart
while the other wants Ravel.
I carefully point out to them
the error of their ways.
They weep repentant tears then turn
and brother, sister say
'I'm sorry,' to each other. I'll
admit I'm moved to see
such good behaviour. It reflects
so very well on me.
When night time comes, without a sound,
they toddle off to bed
and whisper 'Mummy, I love you.'
I kiss each pretty head
and count the many things I've done
to make them be this way.
Of course, genetics always have
a major part to play.
I've blessed them with my intellect,
my beauty, sense and style.
I've cultivated manners, taste,
exposed them to a pile
of foreign cultures, languages,
we eat organic food,
they follow my example and
are never, ever crude.
Your kids, I'm sure, are perfect too,
in their imperfect way.
I'm sure they'll grow up just like you
and just like you they'll play
their part in our society.
Rebecca, Ryan, Kim,
Imagine! They may one day work
for Sally or for Tim!
My thoughts go out, this mothers' day,
to you. I wish you luck.
But truth be told, if I were you
my mothers' day would suck.