Oh Mother…
you gave me birth
but I often wondered why
I never pleased you
I often made you cry
I was too sullen
too fat, too shy
Too quiet, too noisy
too low, too high
Neither the baby
nor first-born
I tread in the middle
Feeling forlorn
Professing maternal love
with tears and supplication
and criticized my actions
with promised damnation
Oh Mother…
I sought your praise
in everyone I met
left feeling needy
from that foolish sucker’s bet
copyright 2010
Anita Rodgers Mystery Writer 
Very telling poem. You blow me away with the volumes you communicate with the words coming out of those finger tips.
Just to make you feel better about being the middle one, first born ain’t too great either. I had to prove that my parents didn’t make a mistake by creating me before they were married. Pressure? OMG can’t tell you how loving that was. Fortunately, mom and me are the best of friends now but, what a long road to get here that was.
Hey Girl!
Yeah, long road is right, eh? Mine may still need some traveling.
Love ya,
A
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It so strange- motherhood. And mothers and daughters… don’t even let me begin.
So often I worry about how I may negatively impact my daughters, how I already have. Because I can pinpoint situations and words with my own mother that have scarred me. But there are the good things she did.
It’s a tough task, sorting our own worth from what our parents thought, said or did.
Annie, you deserve all the love in the world. We can start with mine.
Hey Chica,
I’m sure as a mom you do worry about your girls – but I know in my heart you are a great mom and I think your girls know too.
Aw thanks, sweetie – back atcha.
Love
Annie
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