By Heather O.
12 years of education
Will end in graduation
All the parents and the teachers think you’re swell
If you’re feeling like you’re still a fool
Off to college, then to graduate school.
In 6 years you’ll be free of those as well.
But if you choose to be a mother
A profession like no other
You’re stuck forever, as far as I can tell.
You thought it’d be a pleasant life.
That of mother and of wife
But now your life is crazy, all pell-mell.
The laundry’s oveflowing
Your grocery list keeps growing
Your toddler’s crying, pointing where he fell.
DH is always working
His duty he’s not shirking
But you wonder if you’ve maybe gone to hell.
Dinner’s burning in the oven
Would it hurt to join a coven?
How nice to clean the kitchen with a spell!
The child’s nose is snotty,
Your leftovers are rotty,
Well, just tell DH to swing by Taco Bell.
Rewind the movie yet again
Teach your kid to count to ten
And sing, 12 times, “The Farmer in the Dell”.
“I love you child, dearly,”
You need to say, sincerely.
Otherwise, you’ll need a padded cell.
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