I often wonder how moms feel
How they keep their cool, remain so even keel
Kids crying, snot running from their nose
Loads and loads of poop-stained clothes
Do they like being stuck with all the goods and all the bads
All the happys and all the sads
All the laughs and all the cries
Seems to me they’d get pretty sick of all the lies…
I remember the first time I lied to my mom
Left out some choice details for where I was and why I wasn’t coming home
The worst part: she didn’t even have to work hard to crack the case
It was handed to her on a silver platter, right in front of her face
Fate had it my mom would figure it out that very next day
She ran into my friend’s mom with whom I told her I would stay
Mrs. V had no time to react, she couldn’t think on her feet
And with my mom on the other side, it was an easy defeat
No time to cheer, celebrate or bask in my lie’s success and glory
Moments after getting home, I learned who had the victory
I thought I was so smooth, thought I could dupe my mother
But even after I covered all my tracks, someone else blew my cover
She was so graceful, so mild and grounded me regardless of my tears
She asked me who was at the party and where we got all the beers
She said she wasn’t mad, just disappointed in my choices that night
And then mentioned how “urine” was the best word to describe the taste of Miller Light
The thing is, moms love us no matter what we do
It’s innate, engrained, not something that they choose
And since we take advantage, they never get the credit they deserve
Like how they’re always keeping us safe from the neighborhood pervs
There’s no way around it, whether they like it or not they get it all
Laughter & cries, no matter how big or small
And whenever we feel small, fall or take too many mushrooms and trip balls
They will always be the first ones we call
I love you mom.