The mum they get
They don’t get a perfect mum.
They get a mum who can’t find the second sock.
The mum who wears her hair up and lop-sided always.
The mum who leaves the washed clothes in the washing machine for too long, and the cake in the oven for not long enough.
The mum who accidentally dresses them in back to front tops and inside out pants.
The mum who forgets to pack the spare clothes, the sunblock and the pram in the boot before outings that definitely require those things.
They get the mum who swears sometimes, swears to do better, and then forgets and swears some more too soon after.
They get the mum who is late to most things no matter how early she starts preparing to leave.
They get the mum who can have stains on her clothes in public and a baby bag which leaves everyone else waiting while she spends ten minutes trying to find anything in it.
They get the mum who sometimes feeds them too much sugar, and not enough greens.
They get them mum who likes her sleep and can get a short fuse when she’s tired.
They get the mum who doesn’t always get it right,
They get that mum.
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But they also get the mum who loves them more than life itself.
They get them mum who tries her best with all she has.
They get the mum who would do anything to give them what they need.
They get the mum who is never not worrying for them, or thinking about them.
They get the mum who shows up, stays there, and never wants to leave.
They get the mum who sees them completely, even when she doesn’t see herself sometimes.
They get the mum who thinks nothing in the world can ever compete with what she is privileged to experience right now and the mum who kicks herself every day that they are her reality.
They get that mum too.
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There’s a lot they get,
With me being their mum.
And it may not all be perfect,
Far from it.
But it’s real, it’s sincere, it’s rooted in complete and unconditional love.
It’s me for them, always and forever.
And that’s all that matters.
It must be.
Because there’s no such thing as perfect anyway.