For the Underappreciated Parent

Thousands of loads of laundry over the years,
Without a single recognition of sweat and tears,
Though I lie and say I don’t need any thanks,
And I continue on sorting underwear and tanks–
because it’s all part of the job, I’m the mom, so it’s no big deal
cleaning and sorting, and making the meals.
They all come with the territory, I knew this going in,
So complaining about it seems wrong, and I can’t win.

I’m left feeling unappreciated, like nobody cares,
When I’m the one scrubbing stains from underwear.
With each garment, each dish, I learn something new,
About every single one of you.
I know what you like, what you don’t, the vegetables you won’t eat,
I know to remind you about homework, and when you actually fall asleep.

I know everything- so why do I feel like you don’t know me?
What I want, what I don’t, and what I really need?

One thing I don’t question is the love that we share,
even if you don’t always speak it, I know that it’s there.
But sometimes, consolation just isn’t enough,
because parenthood isn’t easy, it’s tiring, and rough.
I’m human, not perfect, I waver, and falter,
It would be nice to know that I’m more than just the one who provides shelter.

I want to know that you care, I want to know that you notice,
when I’m worn down, feeling out, but I don’t think that you know this.
I put on too good a face, because I want to be strong,
to be the role-model you deserve, to suck it up and get things done.

Parent is what I do, but it’s not who I am,
beneath the surface, it can feel like I’m running a scam.
Like you, there are times where I just want to be held,
and told that it’s all okay, that I’m unparalleled.
To have the comfort, and notion, that it’s not all for nothing,
that I’m not the invisible fish in this ocean.

I’m acutely aware that things will soon change,
and I won’t be able to see you just by calling your names.
You’ll be older, moved out, on your own,
Hopefully with my lessons helping you manage your own home.
But while you’re here, take a moment, stop, and see,
the one cleaning up behind you, pushing you to be better, is me.

I don’t need endless praise, or gifts, or money,
just every now and then stop, and say “thanks for all you do for me.”

Posted on February 5, 2018 by Holdin' Holden 0 Comment
Holdin' Holden

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