I’m longing for some freedom,
Or even a little space.
My arms are heavy, back sore,
But I am your favourite resting place.
This morning as we all got dressed,
You cried when I put you down.
Trying to help your brother ready,
You watched on with a little frown.
Then again at breakfast time,
When I really needed two hands.
You yelled at me across the room,
The distance too far for you to stand.
The whole drive to your brother’s sport,
You screamed on from your seat,
Eyes locked on me from your mirror,
Fists balled, kicking little feet.
And all afternoon as I cooked and cleaned,
Made snacks and entertained.
On my hip you stayed for all,
Or else vocally complained.
I couldn’t put you down for a minute,
Without setting you off once more.
Big tears rolling down your cheeks,
Eyes pleading, I felt it to my core.
But I needed to use the bathroom,
Or have a moment to get something done.
I spoke to you, begging for just a minute.
So I could finish things I had begun.
The guilt of trying to do it all,
And not getting even close.
It pulls at me on days like today,
Days when you need me the most.
I long for just a little space,
Maybe a second set of arms.
Trying to juggle the needs of two,
For everyone, being the voice that calms.
But the moment I scoop you back up,
Your head nuzzles into my side.
Small hands reach up to my face,
A smile breaking an ocean wide.
I breathe into the knowing,
That while I feel the need to be alone.
You and I are pieces of the same puzzle,
And to you, I am home.
