Sundays with Toddler

I wake up at 7 and go for a swim
Exercising on Sunday – Gila for the win!
I come home, I’m hungry, I’m hangry as hell
You ask me for things, but I’m not feeling so well
I tell you to give me a minute, but you keep whining
Food for my belly, self-care, you’re denying
I help you with one thing, think freedom is found!
Then you ask again, “When can we go to the playground?”
I told you we’d go in the afternoon—it’s still morning
Your bursting my bubble, and I gave you forewarning
I first have to clean; I’m not trying to be mean
Life isn’t as easy as to you it seems
I’ve been up since 7; unlike you, I don’t nap
Grumbling to myself, “Oh man, this is crap!”
I love you to pieces, but I’m falling apart
I’m pushing so hard till the end from the start
G-d won’t you help me, I’m only human
It’s too much to handle—Why do you think that I can?

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