They have searched for me, my kids,
they know me well.
They know when I sit down, and when I get up to clean;
They perceive my need for time alone from afar.
They discern my going shopping and my lying down for a catnap;
They are familiar with all my habits.
Before a word is on my tongue,
they interrupt and make me forget what I was going to say.
They pull at my hem from in front and behind me,
Their hands are always on me.
Such attention is overwhelming for me,
Too much for me to process all at once.
Where can I go from my children?
Where can I go to flee from the kids?
If I go in the bathroom, they are there,
In the middle of the night when everyone should be sleeping, they are there.
If I get up early, they are there,
Try to sneakily eat chocolate behind closed doors, there!
Even there, they beg!
Their hands trying to take it from me, making me feel guilty.
If I say, “Surely I can have privacy in the darkness
and the quiet becomes peace around me,”
the night will be full of interruptions;
because the darkness means it’s time to play.
They were created in my inmost being;
I am the mother in whose womb they were knit.
I praise God because they were fearfully and wonderfully made,
His works are wonderful!
My frame was not hidden from their kicks
when they were made in the secret place,
when they were woven in the depths of my girth.
Their eyes saw as their hands punched me;
all their days were written in their baby book
hopes and promises before they came to be.
How precious are their words, and their silence!
How vast is the sum of their joyful noise!
Were I to count them, it would require I could concentrate…
I’m sure their questions have outnumbered the grains of sand–
when I’m awake, they are always with me.
In game and play, they slay the zombies.
They pretend to kill the monsters and vampires.
While at church they sing Jesus Loves Me;
they are learning of His precious Name.
Do I not get angry with those who are mean to them,
and abhor those who bully or reject them?
I have nothing but disdain for adults who dismiss them;
I count them as missing out on great opportunities.
My kids have searched through my stuff, and they know what I love;
they test me and cause anxious thoughts.
They push buttons of offensiveness,
but I love them, that’s my way, and it’s everlasting.