Mother is sorry for being tired.
You smash your toys against the ground –
giggling to the sound it makes;
your eyes wide open
and looking at me with the greatest smile I have ever witnessed;
yet your Mother is too tired to laugh with you.
Instead my eyes fill with tears,
holding in all of the emotional roller-coaster a mother has to live through,
while piles of clothes are waiting to be washed
and I justify myself to friends that I am unable to see,
for when my baby boy falls asleep,
so does his Mother.
You look at me with those big, big eyes,
Mama, you say and smile.
As if to say it is okay, to be tired.