by Jennie Bernstein
Served Fresh Daily.
How could you judge me? Let me count the ways.
You could judge me to the playground, the grocery store and dance studio too
You could judge me for not being as put together as you
For how I feed my children: organic or not, frozen, fresh or fried
Homemade or store-bought, you can judge how I tried
How my breasts do or don’t leak, weaning, and where my child sleeps
How I catch their poop and if my child ever weeps
The birthing room, soccer field, and selected books
For screen time you can give me funny looks
Judge me for the guilt I feel and that which I don’t
Lay it on because my heart won’t give up hope
For the times I lost my cool
And the way my child drools
Don’t forget to judge for school
I doubt you can judge me more harsh than I
Go ahead, let your criticisms fly
How I long to be parent enough
Not alone and no need to bluff
Hitting walls and ceilings and poop to fans
Getting in and missing out on all the right brands
The car seat, yoga pants, if my child wants to hold my hand
All I forgot; registration, shoes, toilet paper, and hairnets
Being late and probably too much internets
The number of kids, the mess that is my house
You can judge the spit up smeared on my blouse
From your glass house the ways to judge are many
It will not change my loving any
Working out, working at all
Or staying home, you can clap when I fall
If judging me helps you feel strong
Feel free to do it all day long.
Your words and thoughts will not damage my will
Flawed though I am, my children know I love them still.
Growing always, I will be
Along this path of parenting.
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