I've swapped my mascara for bags under my eyes,
Husband says I'm sexy - how dare he tell such lies?
My wardrobe consists of trackies and tees,
I have granny knickers that sag down to my knees.
Sometimes I go all day with baby sick in my hair,
A whole week can go past with me going nowhere.
For me sleeping past 6 is an unheard-of treat,
My legs and my razor very seldom meet.
I'm out of my mind and may be gone for some time,
Maybe I'd feel better if I could just have some wine!
But my breasts belong to someone more important than me,
And while I may be mad, I'm not that silly.
Sometimes I think next time she cries or shouts,
That my very last marble will come rolling out.
I'll lose the plot and forget my own name -
But I wouldn't change a thing for fortune or fame.
My insanity is all part of being a mum,
Frustration goes hand-in-hand with the fun.
And despite all the madness, now and then,
I just can't wait to do it all over again.
This new forum is strange ...