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Here’s a poem I wrote just now 🙂

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How does Mama do it?

She goes about her day,

Fixing meals and wiping spills,

Very busy she does stay.

Washing dishes, folding clothes,

Never ever shirks,

Even when she’s done with wash,

And finds one more dirty shirt.

My brother and I were at the house

For two days on our own;

I did the dishes, washed the clothes,

And my feet began to groan.

It hadn’t been an hour,

Yet as I went about the chores

My attitude became sour.

I was tired and sore,

I wanted to sit,

I wanted to take a nap,

But my list said I wasn’t done yet.

So I wiped the counter, swept the floor,

And still my list said one thing more,

So I mixed up the dough,

Put it in the fridge to chill,

Finally, I might be still.

But it didn’t seem long

‘til my brother came along

And said that the dough was hard.

(So was getting out of my chair,

But I did it, tying back my hair.)

Cookies in the oven,

One thing’s for certain,

I’ll fall asleep quickly tonight.

Finally with the cookies done,

Sitting on the cooling rack,

I look at my list and see

That I’m done for the day, at last.

How does Mama do it all?

Every single day

Without hardly a moment’s rest

Yet she does it; it’s her way.

I’ll never again take for granted

All the things she does for us,

And I won’t complain about the few

Chores she gives to me.

I’ll simple nod and get them done,

Try my best to not drag my feet

And keep the same attitude as she;

Happy as the morning sun.