sick sick

When my youngest grandson was a baby, his mother, in frustration of new motherhood, wrote this piece. She is an excellent speller, but this was written on the fly, in the mood of the moment. I have reproduced it exactly as she wrote it.


sick, sick
both boys are sick
They’ve got the flu
What do I do?
Poo and throw up every where
I have no washing machine
It’s a bear
All appointments out the door
instead I’m home to clean the floor
Poo and throw up every where
Oh, there ’s some more
in that chair
The baby crys (sic!) he’s out of food
If I move Joshua it may be rude
Poo and throw up every where
my sick kids are quite the pair
I cannot go to the store
I cannot make it to the door
I cannot hear above the roar
of crying and Disney channel
it’s a war
I cannot get to the chore
of picking up stuff off the floor
Curtis may be home at four
Or it may be later
I can’t take more
Poo and throw up everywhere
look, I’ve got some in my hair
Baby is crabby
he wants held
If I hold him
food on the plaes wi be jelled
Poo and throw up everywhere
all outfits soiled, nothing to wear
throw up, diaper rash, diareah (sic), yeah!
snotty noses, whimpering noises, limp kneeses (sic), hey!
Poo and throw up everywhere
Mom did it for me. I guess it’s fair