The Keepsake Bag

A bag rests in the corner,
That’s reserved for all the best.
Keepsakes, memories and mementos
For when you’ve flown the nest.

Tops, trousers, shoes and costumes,
Some with spag bol and grass stains.
At least, when you’ve left home,
This tiny loot will still remain.

Each time I put your clothes away,
I feel a little low.
Your outgrown things look good as new;
Where did those last months go? 

A vacuum pack of treasures,
Captured as we laughed and played.
Nothing much to look at,
But too precious to give away. 

Despite your Dad’s “Jeeze, not more crap,
To pack into our loft”.
The contents of that bag someday,
Will make his heart go soft.

We’ll think it seems like yesterday,
Since you were oh so small.
Boom! In a flash, you’re all grown up,
And standing oh so tall.

To the world, that bag’s just full,
Of unsuspecting stuff.
Yet to me it’s simply priceless,
And it makes me feel dead chuffed.

© Pass Me The Valium and passmethevalium.com, 2017.

This Is Your Mother’s Day Too

Not every Mum is plain to see,
You may exist with arms empty.
Broken heart and a pain so true,
Missing your little pink or blue.

If your child rests up in heaven,
Sometimes special cards aren’t given.
You are a mother nonetheless,
This day is tough; can feel a mess.

Right now, you want to scream or hide,
But please know this — you can survive.
Feel alone with no one knowing?
Thinking of you. Keep on going.

© Pass Me The Valium and passmethevalium.com, 2017.

3 A.M. Again.

Each night I clock in:
3 A.M. without fail.
Thanks to a cry,
A cough or a wail.

Up changing bed sheets,
Or making night feeds.
World’s most patient hostess,
Of V.I.P needs.

Cold air cramps my neck,
Bum numb on the floor,
Eyes shutting, head drooping,
“Please sleep” I implore.

Now expert at back rubs,
Patting and “hush”
Reminding myself,
This will pass soon enough.

One day they will sleep,
There’ll be no pitch-black cuddles.
No mopping of brows,
No cleaning up puddles.

No reaching for Calpol,
And Neurofen too.
No surprise vomits,
Or exploding poos.

Weirdly I’ll miss this, 
Once home’s filled with snores.
I won’t be so needed.
And then I’ll want more!

© Pass Me The Valium and passmethevalium.com, 2017.

Smiggle® Niggles

The wondrous world of Smiggle®.
Now who created that?
Shop filled high with bright, fun things,
That act like children’s Crack.

Fluff, sparkles, neon, shimmer,
And heaps of scented stuff.
It seems that if you’re six years old,
You can never have enough.

Tubs of choke-able erasers,
Garish bags that cost the earth,
Secret-pocket pencil cases,
Longed for more than life is worth.

Impossible to walk past,
Without “ooos” and looks of awe.
“Oh Mum please, let’s go inside?”
Reluctantly I mutter “sure.”

“I really need more pencils,
And everyone loves Smiggle®.”
(Though at the till not sure I see,
The parents smile and giggle).

Still, the owner must be laughing,
In the style of James Bond villains.
Skips merrily down to the bank,
Signs cheques with pens sweet-smelling.

Hands up, I am just jealous.
This store’s a genius idea.
Stock that dazzles and delights,
And flies off the shelves no fear.

So a plea to ease our niggles,
Guaranteed win-win, you know.
I suggest an in-store offer:
Complimentary Prosecco.

© Pass Me The Valium and passmethevalium.com, 2017.

What To Expect…New Motherhood

First days at home with your baby,
The sound of alarm bells ring.
Panic sets in as you look at your bundle,
“Umm, what do I do with this thing?”

So, now you’re meant to be grown up,
Responsible, calm and together.
But faced with this Mini-Me being,
You’re suddenly not feeling clever.

Sore, cracked nipples and swollen boobs.
Yearnings for cold cabbage leaves.
Stitches, discomfort and pain sitting down.
Trepidation of each “ouchie” wee.

Tired eyes. Haven’t slept now for days.
And not likely to anytime soon.
In your own little bubble, feel jet lagged,
Tearful, exhausted, marooned.

Might fret about breast or the bottle.
Know what? A fed baby’s what matters.
A happy babe equals contentment.
Much better than feeling in tatters.

You’ll become MasterChef of fast mealtimes.
A Jedi of one-handed-skills.
Queen of box-set feeding marathons.
Can truly watch Netflix, and chill.

A blurry time full of confusion.
But it’s gone in the blink of an eye.
One day they will sleep through the night.
Some day they will talk and not cry.

Baby gazing’s your new favourite past time.
Breathe in deeply, that fresh baby smell.
Live in the moment. Forget about chores.
Fall under your gorgeous one’s spell.

Don’t overdo the advice books,
Paranoia of failure is crazy.
Trust your gut instincts, you are a great Mum,
You know what is right for your baby.

These first weeks can feel pretty daunting.
All new, and surreal, and unknown.
But, trust me, you’re doing a great job.
And, please know, you are never alone.

© Pass Me The Valium and passmethevalium.com, 2017.

Tomorrow will be different…

Tomorrow will be different:
A home of peace and love.
No worn-out cries “for pity’s sake”,
Raised eyes to Lord above.

Tomorrow will be different:
I’ll have no need to yell.
They’ll get their shoes on speedily,
We’ll make that school run bell.

Tomorrow will be different:
Their pants will stay all clean.
Won’t have to scrub poonamis,
That make my face turn green.

Tomorrow will be different:
I’ll sip hot cups of tea. 
Go to the toilet on my own;
Blissful tranquility.

Tomorrow will be different:
There’ll be no fights or scraps.
No embarrassing behaviour,
Or toddler tantrum flaps.

Tomorrow will be different:
I’ll be in complete control.
No winding up, or losing plots,
No bribes of Paw Patrol.

Tomorrow will be different:
On myself, won’t be so tough. 
I’ll acknowledge that I’ve tried my best.
I’ll accept that that’s enough.

© Pass Me The Valium and passmethevalium.com, 2017.

Good food? “DISGUSTING”

As every Mum knows,
The more effort you make,
To cook wholesome food,
There’s more chance they will hate.

Slaved over for hours,
And crafted with love?

You bet, on the floor,
It soon will be shoved.

“Tonight, lovely soup.
Great for your 5 A DAY.”

“Well, this tastes disgusting”
You’ll soon hear them say.

How about casseroles?
Veg pasta sauces?
Dream on, there’s no way
They’ll eat three hearty courses.

Nutritious meals equal
“Bleurghh, urghhh” and “Yuck!”

Looks of repulsion;
Response: “What’s this muck?”

Try as you might,
To teach them what’s good,

They long for the junk,
And a “Yum” chocolate pud.

You’d make them so happy,
If you could just fix it,

To serve up a menu,
Of burgers and biscuits.

One day they’ll be foodies;
Love flavour adventure.

No frowning or moaning,
No meltdowns or censure.

So, if meal after meal,
All week you’ve been binning,

Resort to fish fingers
And feel like you’re winning.

© Pass Me The Valium and passmethevalium.com, 2017.