The Clock Strikes Eight
The hour begins which we all hate.
Kid's ears get plugged and run around
My patience wears, I spiral down.
Pajama's lost--though here before
'They are not to be found I'm sure I'm sure!'
Have you looked or searched or even opened your door?
'On what am I stepping knee deep on this floor?'
Each tooth must be flossed and brushed
Each set of worries talked and hushed
Prayer's irritably flung at the ceiling
Mom's yells keep everyone reeling.
What happened to that peaceful scene
That fell upon us at 7:15?
No I'm wrong it was a zoo
and had been since a quarter to two.
Each day I try to better be
But alas the devil sinks claws in me
He shakes and shakes and doesn't let go
Until in me the tears do flow.
Finally to their peaceful beds
But the pillow nary touches their heads.
They got tucked in--but not for long
They come back out for a question or song.
At last asleep, so sweet in there
When time just past I was a bear.
Please help me to see the sweetness when
They are still awake to view me grin.
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3 comments:
Oooooh honey. Something clicks in my head at 9:00. If the sugar plums aren't a-dancin', it truly becomes the witching hour around here.
Oh, boy, I start growling at bedtime. I can't stand how it drags out, and then they come out of their rooms 10 times. I could endure to the end if only there would be an end to it.
The woman with no kids was only thinking - wow, did you write that? :)
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