Parenting

Milk for adults .

Sudocreme for ouchies.

Almond milk/ unclogged arteries,

Fish to avoid meat ūüĎć

Chicken- not battery!

Meat for a treatūüėč

Spinach to get your greens

Onions – for everything.

Yoghurt – no added sugars!!

Pampers for dry nights.

Washing pods to fill the lines.

Kitchen wipes to kill bacterial signs.

Baby wipes for a gentle clean.

No more tantrum wipes- my next invention.

She sleeps,

Without tension.

12.5Kgs resting.

Toddler sighs in another declension.

Sleeping,

Breathing,

Small moves.

Crushing Baby Babog underneath.

While

I list

And list

And list.

Unwritten articles

Fuzzy photos

Rejected stories

Failed interviews

Eye contact cringe

Unfolded washing

Wet washing

Unanswered mails

Forgotten friends

Lost thoughts

Unthought thoughts

The stranger in the dark

The tiger at the door

The lion in the wardrobe.

The ouchies

Future lone traveling

Kidnappers

School bullies

Unknown dangers

Known danger

Unknown known dangers

Known unknown dangers…

A spiraling gyre of fear threatens all.

But lying here,

In the bed beside her cot,

I hear her gentle breaths.

She sleeps.

I should be elsewhere. Folding and packing, typing and thinking, cooking and critiquing.

Her even breathing quells an inadequacy that has been rising for days.

I listen

And listen

And listen.

And rest.

But pausing, I wonder what will halt this fear when she is grown up and gone away.

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Under Grandad’s chair

There lives a host of special toys.

Bottle tops, lost spoons and Teagasc papers

On grass and feed and growing beef from your seat.

Under Grandad’s chair

Far back where my little hand can reach

Lives ‘gurl’ and rag time ‘ra ra’

Far back where they slid underneath.

Under Grandad’s chair lives

‘Cah’ that goes ‘beep’

Far back where it crashed below the ‘seet’.

Under Grandad’s chair lives dust

And ‘do do’* , ‘do do’, ‘do do’

Far back where I can’t …

Far back where I can’t stretch .

One more week and maybe I can reach…

*soother

Doula

Hickory, dickory, dock,

We  work around the clock.

Play and wash and prep and feed and change and play and nap and feed.

 

Toilet rush before the bough breaks.

A¬† baby¬† in a new mother’s lap

with growing arms reaching for the roll and now the¬† taps –

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,

Soon we all might crack.

 

The clock strikes one

and She arrives.

She soothes and smiles.

She coos and plays and gurgles.

 

I step and step and step until the body miles stack up.

Hickory, dickory, dock, the mouse wound down the clock.

Thoughts still before a time bomb bursts.

 

Hickory, dickory, dock.

She soothes, she calms and our doula leaves.

We begin again.