Who Am I Really?

When I grow up, I want to be a mommy—

The best mommy in the whole wide world.

I’ll rock my babies in a chair,

And sing them to sleep every night.


I’ll hold them, and cuddle them,

And keep them safe always.

I’ll tell them I love them and teach them to pray.

My babies will learn right from wrong.


I’ll nourish their hunger for food and for learning.

They’ll drink in the sunshine and thrive.

My children will speak kindly and in quiet voices,

No anger or fighting will be in my home.


I’ve had my babies and I am a mommy,

I’m NOT the best mom in the world.

It’s not what I pictured in my youthful imagination,

But it’s a good life all the same.


My babies are rocked and lullabies are sung.

Children are cuddled and loved all the time.

We are teaching them all that we know and love,

They are learning and growing and thriving.


I’m learning to cope with my foibles and faults,

My children don’t need them, you see.

They’re teaching me patience as they quarrel and argue,

I’m learning to tune out the fights.


When I’m not refereeing the battlefield at home,

My titles are youth leader, chauffeur, and classroom assistant.

Camp Fire candy fills our garage; closets stuffed full with crafts,

And our weekends are centered on kid friendly things.


The kids need new coats and their shoes have worn thin,

So my sweater will last me another winter.

The car is in the shop, television on the blink,

And checkbook is in the red.


My children are grown now, and I’m a granny.

Life is much more to my liking each day.

As the kids raise their own children,

The cycle is becoming complete.


Their families are young yet, but they’re beginning to learn,

That neither life nor children come with manuals.

Though they still don’t remember the rocking and lullabies,

Nor the fun times we had in the park.


They’re stuck on the everyday quarrels and battles;

Still thinking therapy is in order for all.

As the grandchildren get older, there’s hope for the future;

They are showing my children the truth.


I don’t think I was a bad mommy, but not the best either,

I just did the best that I could.

My children will learn, as their children mature,

Life isn’t as easy as it looks.


So who am I really?

The rocker and cuddler?

The referee and chauffeur?

The granny with all the charm?


Someone above will answer that question.

I hope I’m not here when He does.


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