by David Weinberger

My angels, now, it's to your room
To dip into sleep's stream
And let your parents' life resume.
Fast forward to your dream.

What's that you say, my angels dear?
The day has not run out?
Tonight you just must-see ER?
And then the title bout?

Oh my dears, my little mites,
Walt Disney's themed your beds.
And if you're good and very quiet
I'll tell my day instead.

Oh, Mikey, Sal and Ted please hear
The story I have to tell
I love each one of you so dear
But you've made my life a … well….

I awoke at six to a tinkling bell
A buzzer, to say what's true,
And gathered laundry that really smelled —
Of dirt and grime … and you.

I washed dishes from last night's snacks
‘ Til you I had to wake.
I put my hand on your small backs,
Gave each a little shake.

I stroked your arm, and smoothed your brow,
and kissed your shining head.
“I'll come again ten minutes from now,”
Said I. Said you: “Drop dead.”

When at last you arose,
And ran to the TV,
I went to the bathroom bowl
To wipe your splattered pee.

While you watched your ninja fights
I made your favorite omelet.
When I had cooked it oh so right
You said, “It tastes like vomit.”

So now perhaps you know it's true
I love you all a heap
But I have had enough of you.
So go to goddamn sleep.


Now the house with no kids in it,
Was quiet, peaceful and calm
I sat down for most of a minute,
And sat up in alarm.

Homework – Ted's! – on the floor, is
Scribbled, smudged and gray.
So ran I, as quick as horses,
To watch the bus go 'way.

Running up the old school stairs,
Wheezing, burning and sore.
“Don't embarrass me,” you glared,
“Slide it 'neath the door.”

With all of you away from home
I grabbed my keys of steel
And set out suburbia to roam
In my Errand-mobile.

Dry clean the clothes, in banks we Trust,
Re-potting Teddy's fern,
The A&P, then Toys ‘R Us,
Toys ‘R Broken to return

First Mel's Shoes, then Crafty Peasant,
And on to Bike-o- rama
To return Sal's birthday present
That gave her bike-o trauma.

House of Spices, House of Rocks,
All for More than a Dollar,
Bring back Mikey's new red socks
‘Cause blue's his new favorite color.

House of Crannies, House of Nooks,
House of Puzzle and Maze.
Then return Ted's library books
Late 8 months and three days.

Then on to home, at 2 on the dot,
I groan with disappointment
'Ccause there's one thing I forgot:
I had a doctor's appointment.

So now you know, yes it's true
I love you enough to weep
But I have had enough of you.
Now go to goddamn sleep.

You come back home, oh joy unmixed!
Three door slams say you're here.
Each one demands a sugar fix
While casting looks severe.

Mikey grabs the channel changer
And tunes in a thriller
Sal wants to see Eye Stab Danger
For its manly serial killer.

Ted is off doing his reading
Or so he made it seem.
In fact Mikey's fish he's feeding
Into the pasta machine.

Then it was time for Sal's ballet
And Mikey's GymJamBoree
So I became once more valet,
Queen of rides, and referee.

I got back home just in time.
Whip up Filet Delight
Marinate in Jus ‘du Lime …
and face the clock in fright.

No time to pee, no time to moan,
No time to walk the pup.
The fifteen minutes had truly flown.
I have to pick you up.

So, you see, just how it is
And why you dare not peep
And why it is I insist
You go to goddamn sleep


You're all at home, the house rings out
with joyous sounds of glee.
Or  ‘twas it just a painful shout
As chin meets pointy knee?

The beef is burning, no peas survive
Ted's drowning Sal's new guppy
The door does slam, my spouse arrives.
His day? It “sucked the yuppie.”

He moans and bitches ‘til he's spent
And asks me, short and formal,
How my own “little day” went.
And all I say is, “Normal.”

Finish cooking, set the table,
call you for your boeuf
I call four times, as loud as I'm able
But you seem to have gone doeuf.

I clear the table, as is my fate.
Sal's begging to be spanked.
My spouse brings in a single plate
And waits until he's thanked.

Mikey fails at two plus three,
Sal flushes down my coins.
Teddy kills bugs carefully,
He says for extra points.

The TV's loud, the CD's louder
The music could peel paint.
But Teddy says he needs some chowder
to help him concentrate.

I cook up a soup, as I'd said,
From the scraps I can find
And serve it to me big boy Ted
Who says, “I've changed my mind.”

So goes the night ‘til it's time for bed
And time to put on ‘ jamas —
A simple act that feels instead
Like Israel dressing Hamas.

All that's left are all the dishes,
Laundry, pickup and bills,
Walk the dog and feed the fishes,
Nursing a headache that kills.

Each one of you fights your bath
Like hopped-up alligators.
And the swampy aftermath?
I wish I had hip waders.

Each wants a tale in which he's viewed
As the action hero.
And then comes Sal's quick review:
“Jeez, you're no DeNiro.”

I'll leave you now as you shout,
Beg, whimper and cajole.
I'll leave you as my will gives out
And curls up in a hole.

I think you're awake and I'm asleep
But it's really hard to tell.
Maybe I'm dreaming or about to weep
Or dead and relaxing in Hell.

So now perhaps you know it's true
I love you wide and deep
But I have had enough of you.
So go to goddamn sleep.

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