These are the days,
Of late night and early morning feedings,
Of juice and milk and PB&J,
Of crumbs and smeared faces,
Of poopy diapers and dirty laundry,
Of snot and spit-up on Mama’s shirt.

These are the days,
Of bubble baths and tea parties,
Of stories and nap time,
Of puzzles and PBS,
Of snuggling and dancing,
Of tears and of questions… so many questions.

These are the days,
Of feeling exhaustion and wonder,
Frustration and contentment,
Fear and hope,
And discouragement and joy,
All within the space of a few hours.

These are the days,
Of trying to live in the moment,
Of letting go bit by bit,
And of allowing motherhood to do it’s work in ME-
To tame me like a wild young horse,
So I can be a bit more pliable in the Potter’s hands.

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