my dear children
you are
the light
always the lightest light
I have ever known
for you I'm me and all for you
I'd give you the world if I could
manage some how still
to see you humble
but I am one of one
and cannot get by
with allowing to much crap
from you folks
you're capable for sure
to be appropriate
and pick up those messes
you often leave me with
tired of it for sure
but still, the light of my life
you are
my dear children
What the hell just happened?! The above verse says it all, but still I'll try to explain if it seems all too opaque.
This farm, our home-does not run on fairy dust. And there is no wizard that I know of who pays my bills.
I ask for respect because I expect it mostly from you, as I give it to your properties and your room to grow, excusing many little battles .
I am tolerant, too tolerant and it serves no purpose other than letting you off on another day of getting by without getting it done.
This may seem harsh to your youth, a freedom time-but my youth found me a farm, and family, and offspring that I feel need to buck up and take on some responsibility that has always been yours to begin with.
There it is-the work of your day, a little offering, a contribution to a family who needs one another at their best though often sees each other at their worst-and bridges the gap between right and wrong with love for one another.
So, my sweet babies-time to inch forward a bit and help out around here. Or else.
Or else we'll all be miserable, and we need each other, really.
I am the wise one, sometimes...the one who often has to stand up to you,
for you so that you may yourself one day rise to
any occasion. Tough stuff here, being hard-but softball with you guys right now will only propell you backwards-and while I still kick and breathe as your mom, I will affirm to be
firm on this issue of responsibility and respect.
Love, Mom
