One exhausting Friday night
We succumbed to take out.
And as we waited our turn in line
The fish shop was invaded.
A father with three under four
Was valiantly entertaining and educating
His young mob.
He’d mastered the art of distraction
Taught numeracy and language
Complete with one child on his hip and one child on each hand.
Another family did arrive
This time Grandpa and two tikes
These youngsters entertained themselves with spending Grandpa’s cash.
A mother taught her daughter how
To pop those plastic straws.
And another turned up with two children and a pup
All of whom were under 5.
The dog obviously did not go in
To collect the dinner prize
That was left up to the under fives.
They problem solved their hearts out
As to how to carry their load
Until the mother could rescue it
Complete with dog in tow
And as they walked off to their home
Both children could see
The mother struggling with the dog and balancing their tea
“Can I walk Scruffy Pizza Mum,”
Pipes up the child of three.
Graceful grass stalks
Pale pink moonrise
Sometimes a day of teaching
Is heart wrenching or worse
And sometimes the job of teaching
Really has it’s perks
A group of lads and lasses, and everyone inbetween
Decided on a challenge
Eating chillies so it seemed.
They did not decide on Jalapeno
Nor the hot Ghost pepper,
No for this little prank – nothing but the best
The Carolina Reaper.
2.2 million units of hotness
Tends to do some damage
Red lips and lots of spitting out
But that is not the funny.
Unfortunately these kids were completely unaware
Of the dangers of hand to surface transferance
And after spitting and scrapping out the chilli
Did not venture near
A tap – no hand washing yet occured.
And here the story goes down or up depending on your view point
For some unknown reason
Perhaps another bet
The boys suffered a case of chilli transferance
On discovering the problem
A fellow bright spark piped up
“Milk is good with chillis, takes away the heat”
Thus the group of teens
Showed some what clever initative
And aquired some unsuspecting bottles
Of chocolate flavoured milk.
The teacher of playground duty
Had a smile wider than a mile
And when they could finally speak
Described the scene inside.
Inside the disabled bathroom, that was out of bounds
A group of boys were summarily found
Soaking some anatomy in the flavoured milk
The Carolina Reaper
On male private parts it seems
Is not a challenge that anyone should redeem.
The tears fall in brief gushes
Blurring my vision
Thoughts reluctantly surface
I don’t want to think.
The questions storm in fast-flowing eddies
I write instead of getting balancing sleep.
Why are my hormones playing up like a teenager’s
Why can I not hold onto a babe?
What has happened since the birth of my first child
That’s made me this terrible imbalanced such that I cannot carry a babe.
I got the new haircut
I got the new clothes
I got rid of the junk from my life
Isn’t all that meant to make you feel better
Isn’t all that the way to get the results you are after
According to the guru’s that is so.
Declutter your life,
Give yourself a change
Gamble a bit
Get happy again
Then things will fall
Into your happy place,
Good energy will start to flow.
Bullshit I say
What crap are you talking
I’ve done all that and here I am
At 4am on a summer’s morning
Tears falling in short bursts down a tired, wet face.
I attempt to eat quite healthily
It doesn’t always work.
The body acts quite stealthily
And some unseen issues lerk.
I take myself off to the Doc
To get poked and prodded
Four blood tests later and and what a knock,
My thyroid’s fine, the hormone is working
I am getting enough sun
But in a grand and humorous gesture
Iron’s down, I’m quite anemic.
Previously, I revamped my diet
To incorporate more fish.
So how do I get my daily iron – a whopping 18mg per day
When I need to eat lots of fish?
“Wholegrain cereal,” my doc suggests
“Just don’t have it with dairy.”
“Add some liver – oh 200g per day is quite a lot.”
Yep – Liver my not so favorite offal
Just might cause a diet reshuffle to topple.
You see – us women of child rearing age are well and truly stuffed.
Unless we sit down and eat duck liver pate for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
There is almost no humane way to eat our required daily iron.
I had a meeting the other day
Whose sole purpose was to pave the way
To set the date for another one
Agenda to be decided when the next was done.
I live in fear
Of being Me
Of letting myself be
Who I want to be.
I live my life
Through others rules
I cannot do
What I want to do.
I cannot teach
How I want to teach
I cannot speak my mind.
None of this is about anyone else
People do not censor me
I am allowed to dress my way
I am allowed to say what I want to say.
I cannot do these things I want
It is an internal failing.
So strong I hate to displease
That I end up displeasing me.
Every time I start a plan
I plan to improve my fitness
This time I’ll be better at it.
I won’t do this or fall for fads
I’ll simply change my diet,
Add a bit of exercise
An extra peice of fruit
No more will I buy fresh veges
And throw them out – past their prime
They won’t last that long because I will eat them all for dinner.
This must be my hundreth Day One
But I could always be lying
I’ve started fitness plans before
And they usually last for a week or more
Before they fall through the floor.
This time, I promise myself
With a lot less motivation
This time is the last first day of the rest of my life
This time I stick right too it.
That feeling after the tenterhooks
That feeling of complete depression
The one that saps the energy
The one that drains
The one that makes all thoughts so hard
That is the feeling.
You work so hard
You bust your guts
You fight for others constantly
You make mistakes
You try your best
And then when you can do no more
You are way past your limit
You give up, disappointed
You did not do what you set out to do
But you give in to the disappointment
That is the feeling of the let down
Knowing that the outcome
Stays the same regardless.
There is a bridge
On my way home
And it’s where I leave my thoughts
The bad and not so good ones.
You see I have taught for many a year
In tough schools that no one’s heard of.
I’ve taught the rough, the hungry and homeless
I’ve taught the ones with nothing.
And when the stories get to much I give myself a talking
“Leave it at the bridge.”
Sometimes it is not about the kids.
But about the adults I work with
I always take them at face value
I do not see deceit in words or in their actions.
Thus today I am somewhat disappointed
And tonight I struggle to leave it at the bridge.