She cooks the meals as best she may and scrubs the
While schoolbooks, lunches, homework too, all need
And yet the census man insists she has— “No Occupation”
When breakfast dishes all are done
She bakes a pudding, maybe.
She cleans the rooms up, one by one,
With one eye watching the baby
The mending pile she then attacks by way of variation.
And yet the census man insists she has — “No Occupation.”
She irons for a little while, and then presses pants for Daddy.
She welcomes with a cheery smile returning lass and laddie.
A hearty dinner next she cooks (no time for relaxation),
And yet the census man insists she has—“No Occupation.”
P.S. I have lots of things that need their own post including motherhood, abortion, Mother's Day details, things that make me giggle, the Whose Line Is It Anyway project and an updated reading list! Later I hope, right now my brain is still un-fogging from all the hot wings I ate yesterday! <3