Ode to Mungee

She talks

She walks

She has 12 teeth

Says "Peas"

and "Coo Coo" 

and "Besshoo" when you sneeze

Her hair is slowwwwly filling in

Her eyes light up when she grins

She tells us to "READ!"

She sure does love books

She likes helping us clean

Maybe soon she will cook

We're convinced she loves us through and through

How do we know?

She says "Aye La Loo!"

Geez Ma, no more pictures!

Whatchu lookin at?

Ode to Chonkers Cat

Your name is Luna but we call you Chonkers
It's a fitting name because you're bonkers

You used to be known as the Top Cat
But now you're lucky to even be pat

You meow incessantly and whine to boot
Your crazy antics are not a hoot

I'm sorry you're no longer a priority
But we've got a baby now, you see

We will attempt to pet you more
And not constantly shove you out the door

But you've got to make an effort too
Cause the baby wakes up when you loudly mew

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This post is part of Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop
7.29.10
Prompt #2: Write a poem for your furry friend
(and I'm pretty sure she meant a poem for your pet and not your ... well, you know)

I'm So "Not Mom of the Year"

Because I find self-deprecation somewhat cathartic, I'm entering this contest for the ...





This is just one of many reasons why I'm not mom of the year:

Though you can't see it, there is, at least, an outlet cover in the bottom socket.

And through brilliant, award-worthy poetry, I offer you myriad other reasons why you should vote to have this title bestowed upon me.

A desk lurks somewhere under teetering stacks of paper in the office.  There's laundry in the hamper, dishes in the sink. The diaper pail wafts an offensive odor, it never ceases to stink.

I'll be feeding Mungee jarred food forever, I'm not one to cook.  Every once in a blue moon, we'll sit down to read a book.

Instead of cleaning, I read blogs during naptime.  The highchair tray is covered with mysterious grime.

Once a week, I might sweep.  Why tidy up, when I would rather sleep?

My legs aren't shaved, my hair looks like hay.  At least I took a shower today.  (Except I haven't)

It's too hot for the playground, we don't go for walks.  The bouncy seat makes a great babysitter.  Mungee never wears socks.

The baby book is barely touched, milestones unrecorded.  Haphazardly scribbled notes like "she got a tooth!" & "she's crawling!", however, need to be sorted.

The crib mattress is still at its highest setting, the doorways have no gate.  When it comes to baby-proofing, I am fashionably late.

If there was ever a doubt I'm not mom of the year, I think I've done well proving it here.

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Many thanks to Tina at Life Without Pink and Mary at The Mommyologist for inspiring me to continue not being the mom of the year in order to write this post while Mungee is trapped in plays in the Exersaucer.

Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop

I've been tempted to participate in Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop for a while now, but the creative juices haven't been flowing and I was unable to come up with anything I wouldn't be embarrassed by worthy of posting.

Yesterday, however, I was drawn to this prompt:

2.) Write a poem about a memory you sometimes wish would disappear.

I've certainly got a few memories I wish would vanish into thin air!  Why does it seem like the things we desperately want to forget are the memories that stand out the most?

Okay, go easy on me ...

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I'm a recent college grad

I'm moving out, getting my own pad

Needing the last of my things for my new apartment

I return to the house I used to rent

Old roommates were still living there

I walk in and they begin to stare

"What are you doing back?" they say

"What do you mean?  I haven't been here today"

I push past, open my old bedroom door

The place was empty, my possessions no more

Tangible reminders of memories, lost

My clothes, yearbooks, everything, tossed

Claims of ignorance fill my ears

"We don't know what happened here"

These things cannot be replaced

and those I trusted broke my faith

Parts of me I'll never get back

This is a memory I wish I lack

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I hate thinking about this.