If you give a mom a moment,
She’ll have to run and pee,
She’ll try to go alone,
But little footsteps are bound to follow.
She’ll find the toilet paper roll empty,
and go to replace it.
Then check all of the other bathrooms too,
so no one else runs out.
If she finds they’re low on supplies,
She makes a mental note to add it to the list,
Then she’ll do a quick wipe down of the countertops,
notice a smudge on the wall,
remind those little footsteps pattering behind her to brush,
Give that sweet tummy a little tickle,
then wipe more toothpaste off of the wall.
Then she’ll notice the stain on the shower curtain,
and when she takes it down to wash,
Then she’ll remember to add the other curtains too.
If she goes to sit down,
Then little footsteps still resound,
needing help reaching the Play-doh.
If she gets her little settled
Then she’ll fix some lunch for all,
help wash hands and wipe faces,
If she glances at the fridge,
Then she’ll wonder what she meant to write on that list.
If she sits down to eat,
Then the dog will bark.
Then she’ll let the dog in and out and in again,
Then hear the washer buzz.
When no little footsteps follow,
She’ll realize it’s been much too quiet for much too long,
Then she’ll teach those little footsteps
How to get Play-doh out of carpet.
The rest of the day follows suit with lots of things to do
That make a house a home,
Each moment filled to the brim,
Yet when her love gets home that night
And asks her about her day,
She’ll feel she got nothing done at all.
If she thinks back,
She’ll hear tickle giggles and see smudged faces,
Feel the velvety skin of her not quite so little one’s hands
As they cleaned a mess together,
Then she’ll smile for a moment.
But if you give a mom a moment…