We All Might Just Be Alright

I fucking hate homework 
And projects 
And assemblies
And parent-teacher conferences
It’s a gauntlet of pushing and pulling 
Begging and beguiling 
Praying and pleading 
I have to pretend I know what I’m doing 
Convince teachers I’m a capable parent 
When I feel like the absolute worst 
I’ve used all the gas in my emotional tank
Before my children walk back in the door 
“What’s for dinner, Mom?”
“I ripped my pants, Mom.”
“I have a field trip, Mom.”
“I have a project due on Monday, Mom.”
There are more moments than I am proud of
Where I mourn my party of one days
Then one of my sons says
“I love you, Mama.”
Points to my chest and asks
“Are you ok in there, Mama?”
Takes my phone and tucks me in and says
“You’re sick, Mama.  You need to rest.”
I start feeling like less of a fuck up
Like I might be getting something right
Like we all might just be alright 

-gws