May 9, 2017MotherhoodSometimes Here is a poem that I wrote about four years ago and it still applies. Sometimes Sometimes I feel like throwing red paint on the clean white walls and writing my name somewhere small, like an artist. Sometimes I feel like leaving it all full of dirt. My teachers lied. Sometimes I feel like hiring a chef and a maid to do all the work I am supposed to do, but hate to do, and watching them do it all while I do nothing. Sometimes I feel like squeezing the breath out of a bird so I can see what I look like, sometimes. Sometimes I feel so deep and so dark that a cave cannot hold me. I am the night sky with no stars, no moon, no streetlight. I feel like this. And then I put in another load of laundry and sing along to Tangled in the background.