I’m the Best Mother Ever.
I bought Play Doh for my kid,
and I don’t even yell when she smooshes it into the carpet.
(But I do wait til she goes to bed, and pick it out,
bit by bit)

I’m the Best Mother Ever.
I let her watch the telly
When she should be in bed.
When she’s fighting off sleep,
When her eyes are circled with red.

I’m the Best Mother Ever.
I know my limits
and I know hers.
I know which type of spaghetti
and which cBeebies programmes she prefers.

One day, I’ll be the Best Mother Ever.
I’ll be everything I hoped I could be.
I just struggle to get there.
I can’t seem to help being me.

I’ll never be Best Mother Ever.
I’ll never live up to my own expectations.
I’ll never be everything I wanted to be.
I hope my girl can forgive my imperfections.
For now, I’ll just have to continue being me.

This post was brought to you, courtesy of The Blog Dare at Bloggy Moms.

(BTW, I have no idea about poetry, or structure, or any of that shit, I just wrote what popped into my head. Defensive, much?)