Of half-formed thoughts, of coitus interruptus,
It’s heading to the living room and then being called to the kitchen
It’s constantly having other’s wants and needs privileged over yours.
Don’t read into this though. I am not complaining
Rather, I am explaining why I have not finished the book yet,
Or lost 5 pounds, or learned to properly meal prep each weekend.
I keep forgetting the direction I was headed and have to relearn it
In the quiet moments before they wake,
Before they climb into my lap, cuddle, tell me about the bird feeder wars
Before they need phones unlocked, purchases approved, breakfast made
Before the day unravels, at first slow, then fast, then somnolent,
then all autobahn till lights out and a new day starts. How trite: My mom
used to say, “I wouldn’t trade this (life) for anything.” But really,
I wouldn’t.

