This poem was posted on my "Raising all boys" message board. I liked it, and I hope you do too.
by Roberta I. Teage
I scrub the wall of fingerprints,
Pick up the mounds of clothes.
I sweep the dirt that shoes track in-
Wish I could use a hose!
Meals are served from dawn to dark,
Dirty dishes crowd the sink.
Just when they're washed and put away-
Everyone wants a drink!
The washer pulls the dirty grime
From pants worn thin and patched.
They look so very neat and clean-
Yuck, look what the pockets hatched!
Broken bones and bloody knees,
I should have been a nurse.
I take it all in shaky stride-
Just grateful it's not worse!
Screams and shouts and arguments
Test the keeping of my cool.
They left the neighbor's faucet on-
See their new front yard pool!
A soothing bath is ecstasy,
A reward at the end of my rope.
Raising boys isn't really bad-
But first I must wash the soap!
A rose can say I Love You,
Orchids can enthrall;
But a weed bouquet in a chubby fist,
Oh my, that says it all!