I wear no underwear
Atop my maternity gear
I am no flying troop
Bailing ‘people in peril’s’ poop
I am just like any other
A girl-to a woman-to a mother!
If I look pretty
I am only as a brave-‘Supermom’ seen
But I was all these before too
And many other relations did I woo
Why was I only then just – pretty
And never suffixed the brave-‘other relationships’ glue?
Why is it that whatever I achieve
Is tattooed as a deserving reprieve?
Please, my child is not my busy-ness
but my retreat!
You know there are heroes me aside
With their gnawing woes beside
Agreed you do rever them too
But let’s not surround everything I do
With fanfare and much ado!
Surprised? for it’s rare of a praise
to not one’s esteem raise?
But at times hubris
only raises debris
So save this rock from pelt
of the maternity belt
Cast me in a case no other
For I am just a human who is a mother!
I am special I know
But not uncommonly so
With treating me such Super
my ownself gets stooper
Let’s stick the Super to something more Duper
How about a Super-woman over a Super-mom?
And letting me just carry on?
For I am a person.. inspite of being a mom
The toy that my child marvels
I am that Talking Tom
Just because I am a mother
I have not lost rest other
I am still the girl weaving gossamer dreams
with her brother
I sit astride the galloping ways
With the horse’s and not the rider’s gaze
I am the wind that trots the stallion
And not the saddle that sits the medallion
I am the tick that triggered the bomb
A little busy with childcare now
that seems to carry more pomp!
Can you not not paint my motherhood
in ‘inspite of’ colors?
For it is just one of the many pillars
That fill my life fuller
I do not aim to simplify
The burden of bearing a child
But let’s not always do mothering amplify
And sometimes just give it a High-five
One head many hoods – sure you’re right at that
But let the mommy be a feather in the cap
And not circumference the hat
For periphery confines
and not defines
The crown is the glory and not the other way round
Let me settle myself, my person
And not on it my wards pound
My child is my buttress
But sorry I am not crippled yet
He envelopes my world with joy
But I am still that coveted toy
Inside the folded paper, ahoy!
Just how would you feel
If you were overcast your stride
With only one feat-ous stride?
I love being called special
But not at the cost of my own metal
So grant me the beauty
that reigns despite my childcare duty
Supermom sans the tom tom
Is where I am coming from!
Nisha is a mother of a 19 month old who revolves her world around him. Currently leading the marketing for a world renowned cruise brand, she has an experience of 6 years as a marketing professional. She writes for the love of life and blogs some of her works. You can read her blog here http://nishakaps.blogspot.in/. Her other interests are theatre and dance which are currently in limbo for the love of time. She tweets @Timepassthings