I Didn't Mean To Be A Witch

Once upon a time,

on a dark and scary night,

I walked into the kitchen

and was met with such a fright!

Sticky, sippy cups resting

in puddles of juice on the tile.

A trail of mashed up Froot Loops,

that could have measured a mile.

A mischievous ghoul and goblin,

stomping around on the floor.

Yelling and kicking and banging pots--

destruction, like I'd never seen before.

My upper lip started sweating,

my eye began to twitch.

I felt my blood start to boil,

Oh no!  Here comes my “mama witch!”

"Don't make a mess," I yell,

"and would you stop hitting each other.

Why won't you two listen to me?

After all, I AM YOUR MOTHER!!!"

With a snap and a snarl, I turn on my heel,

and gruffly leave the room.

“I didn't mean to be a witch,” I say to myself,

as I tackle the laundry that looms.

I'm certain we've all felt like witches,

with our tempers and ornery glares.

As mothers, we work hard for no recognition

and wonder if anyone cares.

We frequently feel frustrated--

we feel patience is a virtue we lack.

If brooms were a mode of transportation,

on tough days, our bags we would pack.

No matter our ages or stages in life,

being a mother is tough.

We question our abilities, we doubt ourselves,

we wonder if we've done enough.

But, in the midst of all the questions,

and the cobwebs and the cauldron a bubbling--

There IS something marvelous about being a mom,

that really is quite humbling.

We must never forget that our children,

are Heavenly Father's children too.

We are wonderful, and on witchy, imperfect days,

there are a few things we can do.

We can take a deep breath, put down the broom,

and pray to our Father above.

We can change our perspective, recall the good,

and resume mothering with an increase in love.

So when a dark and scary night rushes in-

when our responsibilities overwhelm us with fear-

We'll remember our roles are especially divine,

and we'll shout, “There are NO witches here!”