For a mother

We are mothers.
We get up.
We wake up.
We make breakfast.
We pack the lunches.
We fight over clothes.
We make suggestions.
We hold our tongues.
We grit our teeth.
We take a breath.
We find missing books.
We shout in frustration.
We rush around.
We close the door.
We breathe.
We make the plans.
We make the beds.
We buy the groceries.
We drop off the dry cleaning.
We repair the bike.
We help out in the library.
We go to the committee meeting.
We sneak in a workout.
We call the other mothers.
We bake the treats.
We walk the dog.
We clean the toilets.
We breathe.
We drive to the school.
We drive to the sports field.
We drive to piano.
We drive to ballet.
We drive to the library.
We drive home.
We supervise the homework.
We ask the questions.
We raise our voices.
We try to listen.
We chop the veggies.
We make remarks.
We criticize.
We wipe the table.
We load the dishwasher.
We feed the dog.
We argue over homework.
We get exasperated.
We hold our tongues.
We say goodnight.
We say I love you.
We give the hugs.
We shut off the lights.
We hope it’s enough.
We breathe.