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.

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.

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.