“They say”

Damned if you do and damned if you don’t in motherhood

They say you meet time when you become a mother.

They say “just wait” on repeat to one another.

The days are long, the years are short.

They weren’t wrong, I must report.

For every morning when I wake,

Time moves so slow for goodness sake.

But then the week flashes by.

“Just wait” and he’ll be twenty-five.

Those tiny feet keep me occupied.

When he naps I can’t decide:

Do I eat, sleep, or fold the linen?

Can’t forget to “soak it in.”

The house will be clean again, I’m told,

By then my mental health might unfold.

They say that you will miss these days.

Is the scream-crying just a phase?

Two things at once can be true.

Hearing “try this, try that” until I’m blue.

Apparently boy moms are problematic,

But moms of boys are pragmatic.

Sleep train, co-sleep, bed share?

Each one will get you a glare.

You think you’re doing the best you can,

But have you ever held a baby as a man?

They say a lot of things these days,

And there is always a better way.

So don’t you let yourself compare,

Because another mother wouldn’t dare.

There has been such a colossal wave of outsider input into how I’m mothering and I just know we’re all going through the same thing. It’s wild.

More to come!