Babies are . . .

 

. . . a state of

emergency

urgency

hangs in every breath

harried mothers forgetting to exhale

dizzy from kept carbon dioxide

adrenaline rushes every moment

hurried anxious attentions

divided

whether babe squalls or sleeps

especially when the bundle creeps

rolls

finds their

knees and finally

feet

emerging helpless to

hapless

shark-eyed toddler

here there

everywhere

over playpen side

not to be

confined

followed by the first attempt at

rebellion’s self-will

a definite “NO” decided

issued with confidence by

a kamikaze two foot- tall tyrant

practiced by then in

ruling the domain

primarily carried by frazzled

parental units who

attempt multi-tasking

how to get the poo

off the writhing serpentine baby

and not

ON

themselves or anything else

but

of course once cleaned and clothed anew

little Farquar lets loose

a chin full of

goo

and you must have this blessed experience

I know you

want to . . .

don’t you?

(Only a crazy person does this more than once!)

Domestic Violet - Mom Vi x 4

Semper Vi ~

Survivor . . . from the VORTEX