Today I’m sharing some of the little poems I write in my head in the middle of the night while I’m feeding babies. I started doing this with my first son, Ryan. Now with my second son, and my increasing internet comprehension, I’ve given them a name, “mom ePoems”. Whether you’re a mom or not, I hope you enjoy…
Today I fed you ham
and I fed you peas
Then you ate a snack
crumbs growing on your face
sipping milk through a straw
and leaving bits of food on the end
You burped and laughed
and looked at me expectantly,
I don’t think there’s anything left to give you.
Your father (not me) once said that
it’s hard to love them when they’re just a blob with eyeballs
But I think your eyeballs are one of your best features
you will hurt yourself.
you will choke on all of those Ritz crackers
you will leave me
Today you came home with your first black eye
and I said, “Who is she?”
Who let you fall, believing there was a step made for you
When there was none?
I am tired.
There is a bull-weevil of tired-ness
Burrowing through my soul
And I am wanting just to lie here,
even though I can hear you crying
And wait until you’re eighteen
and you come in to check on me.
Hold all the looseness up
Hold all the looseness up,
Spin it around
and set it down
Until the looseness leaves
And we are left with longing.
Weeks are a funny thing.
You can have 40 left
and life is just beginning
When you were new and I was new
There was a smell
I had no idea where or what it was
And then one day I discovered the old crusted milk
in the fat folds of your neck,
Poor neglected child you were.
After that I was more vigilant
And I didn’t let the milk dribble and collect
But I kind of missed the smell
–it was addicting
Now you smell so sweet
Your neck and hair
I sink my face in when you’re close
Sweat, salt, cream, sugar
all, both, please
It is almost too good.
Your Hair, for Ryan
Your hair has made you many things
Banker, boxer, boy
The night you came it was so black
with your light brown skin
that I was sure you were Hispanic
Then suddenly it was red
and in your green jumpsuit
you looked like a leprechaun
Then bald and serious
Then light brown
What will next season bring?
So many houses being torn down
So much packaging.
Your yogurt has a container, a carton and a box
What are we doing while we are unwrapping?
While we are wasting time?
Stay tuned for more babies, more poems…