In Honor of Poetry Month, a Poem About Motherhood

We don't have to be in quarantine to feel overwhelmed

Photo by Benjamin Manley on Unsplash

Today is the last day of Poetry Month so I thought I’d share a poem I wrote in November of 2020. I don’t write poems often. In fact, I’m not sure I wrote this one at all — it just sort of jumped into my head. I didn’t so much think it up as it found me.

Late fall of 2020 was a dark and depressing time for most of everyone. My daughter had recently had her bat mitzvah with no family or friends to celebrate. She and my son were getting ready to “celebrate” their birthdays — 13 for her, 11 for him. They were back in school but masked and distanced and it was all horrible. We weren’t going to be able to go to see family for Thanksgiving.

That’s the headspace I was in when I wrote this. It was all too much. Too many meals, too much time in a big-by-NYC-standards but still too small apartment. Buckingham Palace might have felt too small by then. Too many people needing too many things that no one could provide.

But I think it transcends that time, too. It describes what it is often like to be a mother in the U.S. whether or not your family is in quarantine.

If I was a better mother

If I was a better mother, I’d read every book before my daughter does so I’d know if it was appropriate.
If I was a better mother I’d drink less wine, eat less chocolate.
If I was a better mother, I’d eat less. 
(But not in a disordered way. Just in a way that is a good role model.)
If I was a better mother, I’d cook better meals that my children would eat without complaint.
If I was a better mother, my children would love school and do their homework without complaint.
If I was a better mother, there’d be fewer complaints.

If I was a better mother, I wouldn’t be tired. My children would give me energy.
If I was a better mother, I would never find my children draining.
If I was a better mother, I’d want to spend all my time with my children.
If I was a better mother, my kids would not spend so much time on screens.
(When they are on screens they leave me alone.)
If I was a better mother, I wouldn’t feel the need to be alone.

If I was a better mother, the kitchen would be clean right now.
(The kitchen is not clean right now.)
If I was a better mother, my children would never be sullen.
If I was a better mother, my children would be smart, helpful and cheerful.
If I was a better mother, they’d be perfect because I’d be perfect and everything would be perfect.

If I was a better mother, I’d do everything my mother did well and be better at the things she didn’t do well.
(Mom: You did everything well. You were perfect. Also: I’m sorry.)
(Mom: You weren’t perfect, but I love you anyway. Also: I’m sorry.)
(If I were a better daughter I'd call you more often, but that's another poem.)

If I was a better mother …
It’s like a lyric in the most annoying earworm.
If I was a better mother, If I was a better mother, If I was a better mother, If I was a better mother … 

If I was a better mother, I wouldn’t be … the mother I am.

The mother I am is tired.
The mother I am is sometimes annoyed.
The mother I am wishes everyone would stop asking me for things.
All. The. Things.
The mother I am loves her children very, very much.
The mother I am …
The mother I am hopes that’s enough.