It is 6:ooPM and my children are nestled all snug in their beds.
Visions, I'm sure, of Mommy loosing her head.
We sat down for a winter's dinner.
Chili and warm bread. It was not a winner.
They cried and they fussed and refused to eat.
Momma sent them to bed without even a treat.
Now I can hear the cries and the moans.
I don't want them to become skin and bones.
I plan and I shop and I cook more and more.
Cooking for me, has become a hated chore.
Nothing seems tasty enough for these two.
Who fuss and complain and whine boo hoo
Off to your beds, I've had enough.
The spoon you will get if you act up.
Now I sit in silence, with guilt setting in.
Until tomorrow where it all starts again.