Poetry: Mommies

Mommies

by Cheryl Maddalena

I come to you from the land of spoons and knives because forks are for people who cook for people who have molars I've got a rubber duck in my purse and a diaper in my backpack I am... a Mommy

Mommies are very practical people trading in the currency of new melting smiles and poop we are the wombs before every single person in this world working hard in the original get-no-respect career to feed, clothe, clean, and wipe the tears from little individuals whom we ideally love, like, more than really a lot I know that you've got one whether you like her or not

we are the sometime Daddyfuckers 'cause you'd think having a baby suck your breasts all day long would make you constantly hot for sex, but...

Mommies we are like nuns plus hags plus 16 year-old drivers in a car crash

with soft tender kisses to downy heads and grim determination in the face of screams round the clock existence, time is continuous, no longer broken into arbitrary day and night dreams and for our children we are everything if we don't shine, the sun don't shine so shine, Daddyfucker, shine!

as soon as you're visibly pregnant you're in the club swapping stories of morning sickness and hemorrhoids and lacy infant clothes that look like doilies

it is a strange transformation so Mommies bond about ridiculous situations like how one night one mommy gave her baby some nakietime just to air out, you know? and then it got quiet she found him with a piece of his own poop in his hand smacking his lips

oh people tell us we're adorable "you are the cutest mom" but we risked life and death hope and loss and pain's tearing claws are the price of newborn breath and for every person on this earth a mother did this common thing

12 billion times now the trumpets blared, the crowds roared and a whole new person met a whole new world it's almost as if life had this deeper meaning, right?

Moms get so strong we endure horrible deliveries miscarriage and babies born dead and still carry on like goddess soldiers making war on the dasher of hopes like we were born for it like we just drank a nice big glass of omnipotence

so you'll see us obsess over little potties and sippy cups and shoes with laser eyebeams burning we'll assess one million fifty two tiny details and compress them into a daily to-do list all just to express the giantness of what we know to be true it is a mother's sacred duty to do this

this is life washing by like we finally got on the ride taking on a role we assumed was solely our own mother's burden and my mom, she really pisses me off sometimes her advice sounds like "you suck" crossed with "I told you so" and "you'll never be a real grownup" oh she makes me burn! but now it's my turn

Cheryl Maddalena is mother to Andrew aged 19 months. She is almost finished with her doctorate in psychology from the California Institute of Integral Studies in San Francisco, and is a frequent competitor at the Berkeley Poetry Slam. If you like to cheer for poets or want folks to cheer for you, find your local poetry slam at www.poetryslam.com.




Read the Introduction Recent Poetry To My Daughter, After a Fight Swimming (Stretchmarks) Dead Man’s Float How to disappoint your mother The Last Page Christina Iron Ethan and Lily, After School Mom Art so much deepens Archives Poetry Archives E-zine Don't have time to check for updates? Let us come to you! Click here to subscribe or unsubscribe to the Literary Mama E-zine. Literary Mama About Us Submissions Contact Privacy Policy Literary Mama Bookshop Literary Mama Gear Powered by Movable Type 3.16	Poetry « Seeing Babies \| Back to Poetry \| Matermorphosis » Mommies by Cheryl Maddalena I come to you from the land of spoons and knives because forks are for people who cook for people who have molars I've got a rubber duck in my purse and a diaper in my backpack I am... a Mommy Mommies are very practical people trading in the currency of new melting smiles and poop we are the wombs before every single person in this world working hard in the original get-no-respect career to feed, clothe, clean, and wipe the tears from little individuals whom we ideally love, like, more than really a lot I know that you've got one whether you like her or not we are the sometime Daddyfuckers 'cause you'd think having a baby suck your breasts all day long would make you constantly hot for sex, but... Mommies we are like nuns plus hags plus 16 year-old drivers in a car crash with soft tender kisses to downy heads and grim determination in the face of screams round the clock existence, time is continuous, no longer broken into arbitrary day and night dreams and for our children we are everything if we don't shine, the sun don't shine so shine, Daddyfucker, shine! as soon as you're visibly pregnant you're in the club swapping stories of morning sickness and hemorrhoids and lacy infant clothes that look like doilies it is a strange transformation so Mommies bond about ridiculous situations like how one night one mommy gave her baby some nakietime just to air out, you know? and then it got quiet she found him with a piece of his own poop in his hand smacking his lips oh people tell us we're adorable "you are the cutest mom" but we risked life and death hope and loss and pain's tearing claws are the price of newborn breath and for every person on this earth a mother did this common thing 12 billion times now the trumpets blared, the crowds roared and a whole new person met a whole new world it's almost as if life had this deeper meaning, right? Moms get so strong we endure horrible deliveries miscarriage and babies born dead and still carry on like goddess soldiers making war on the dasher of hopes like we were born for it like we just drank a nice big glass of omnipotence so you'll see us obsess over little potties and sippy cups and shoes with laser eyebeams burning we'll assess one million fifty two tiny details and compress them into a daily to-do list all just to express the giantness of what we know to be true it is a mother's sacred duty to do this this is life washing by like we finally got on the ride taking on a role we assumed was solely our own mother's burden and my mom, she really pisses me off sometimes her advice sounds like "you suck" crossed with "I told you so" and "you'll never be a real grownup" oh she makes me burn! but now it's my turn Cheryl Maddalena is mother to Andrew aged 19 months. She is almost finished with her doctorate in psychology from the California Institute of Integral Studies in San Francisco, and is a frequent competitor at the Berkeley Poetry Slam. If you like to cheer for poets or want folks to cheer for you, find your local poetry slam at www.poetryslam.com.