It all starts so rosy,
a peachy coloured blossom,
The birth of a child now cuddled up; cosy,
staring at their cute little noses, hands, feet and bum.
The quiet days start to fade away,
those peaceful moments gone too soon,
the joyful laughter and loud play,
a 6am wake up call thumping into the room.
I admit I love my kids,
but they push my buttons,
I wish their mouths came with zippers or lids,
or a magic finger clicker where there is no sound just…. nothing.
Six years old and she has been like this for a while,
a constant aggressive have it her way attitude,
mummy is away so lets turn up the dial,
she forgets daddy doesn’t like those who are rude.
A flue has hit the parents, freedom is what we ask,
One is at a party while the other wars it on with the brats,
The shops for daddy and then play time for the kids, a simple task,
I should have just stayed home with the old dribbling cat.
Their faces coloured their hair dyed,
balloons and lollies, nails and artwork painted,
you couldn’t ask for more from daddy he tried,
but still the girl brought the day down, the morning tainted.
A yelling contest began, in her room she lies,
sheets are stained from paint, dye and tears,
how many times will she challenge me knowing she will cry?
How many more times through the oncoming years?
I sit and type as a battle runs through my head,
parenting is hard when laying down the law,
part of me wants to cuddle her on her bed,
tell her I love her but my anger is still to raw.
Till next time, Keep smiling
The Stubborn Australian