I've been through dolls and matchbox cars-
a precious girl, a sporting boy,
and sleepovers a thousand times;
I called it stress - they jumped for joy.
At first a bike and then a car;
for each I wore my worry cap-
the wondering and letting go...
if only I'd have had a map.
Her marriage here, his marriage there-
a budding teen, one on the way.
It's funny how the world goes 'round-
how memories are made each day.
It's all awash, but yet it's not,
for now we have a frisky pom
reminding me of little ones
and what it's like to be a Mom.
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