My tasks and duties as a supermom have increased, infact doublefolded. And so has my aspirations, expectations, and inspirations. My latest inspiration is my little boy, Raahil. Contrary to popular beliefs that after a baby one just doesn't have any time at all, all newbie moms will agree with me that the feeding time is the best time to pick up a fone, dial a friend and catch up a bit. And if you are not talking, you are dreaming. And as for me, I am turning a bit 'poetic.' Raahil inspired me to reinvigorate, or in simple terms, retry my poetic flair, which I must admit has been quite a weak and a meek attempt, but nevertheless, worth a mention. So here it is.
He wants to be rocked,
He wants to be hold;
He wants to be fed,
He wants to be told...
Raahil, its burping time, its napping time,
its play time, its feeding time;
But does he listen to mommy, naah!!
He is the king of his destiny.
I will eat when I want to,
I will play when I want to,
I will cry when I want to,
and I will sleep when I want to;
So as I go through the day with my arsenal,
that consists of diapers, pacifiers and changing pads,
bottles float in my dreams,
as I try to catch up on my sleep;
Babies are work, babies are hard,
But somehow they cajole in giving us a laugh;
I gleem in joy when I look at him,
He is afterall my honey and cream.
Yes, all I have done is tried to rhyme,
I don't have a natural flair,
But something is better than nothing,
Might tickle a giggle, a snort, or mere chuckling.
