So your son did a wee in the hallway,
And your daughter had a tantrum in the road.
You’ve run out of milk, the petrol’s at low,
Your boss is practically speaking in code.
You were late to work, the parking’s a mess,
You’ve had a shit day from hell.
It pissed down with rain from morning until night,
But actually, you’re doing rather well.
“What do you mean?” you curse at the screen,
“I barely have time to take breath!
The washing’s in a heap, the floor’s not clean,
Even the cat’s looking close to death.”
Here look, I say, they have food in their tummies,
They’re happy, they’re not raising hell.
A pat on the back is richly deserved,
Oh yes, we’re all doing rather well.
You got through the day on an hour and a half’s sleep
After being up all night with your son.
That makes you an amazing, albeit baggy-eyed
Bloody fantastic, brilliant Mum.
You forgot the spare nappy, now there’s poo up the wall,
Your life’s a song by Adele.
So what? Sit down, have a nice cup of tea,
I think we’re all doing rather well.
You got them in the car, with their bags and their coats.
You put your mascara on at the lights.
They got to school with five minutes to spare.
I think you’re all getting it right.
So give yourself a round of applause,
A cheer, a shout and a yell,
It’s not all perfect, but who the hell bloody cares?
We’re definitely all doing rather well.
Originally published on the brilliant Selfish Mother site.