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Social Mom

Social Mom

Even though all the house lights are on,

Garage door open, and blinds pulled high,

I punch the air to “If You Wanna Be My Lover”

And let my balloon belly and utters fly

After all, this is why

I bought the house in the sticks,

So I wouldn’t have to deal with

Loud basses and strange little pricks.

I hate the sound of the interstate;

I hate Wal Mart so much I might burn it;

I hate having to look people in the eye,

So I decided to become a hermit.

Ambrosial are the sound of the leaves in the wind,

The squawking geese, the trickling creek.

Out here, in middle of nowhere,

I can dance, fart, or take a girl-squatting leak.

But there you are, crunching up my driveway,

So I say pretty four-letter words

And throw myself

Into the room with a lot of cat turds.

Sure, you can knock on the door,

But can’t you hear, above the Spice Girls, the shower?

And don’t you know I might be breastfeeding?

That’s right, people. Girl power.

FedEx, just chuck the expensive package out your window.

My dogs will carry it miles into the woods anyway.

Mrs. Nearest Neighbor, you’re such a good person,

But I just want to be weird and naked and alone, okay?

If a serial killer escaped from the prison on route A,

Thanks for the 411, but I have an AK by the door,

A three-legged Chihuahua who snacks on coyotes,

And a disposition not unlike a rabid boar.

It’s not that I’m against being social,

It’s just that my washer’s on the fritz,

My cat just hacked up a large creature,

And you do not want to smell my pits.

So consider this me doing you a favor

By not answering the door

Shoot me an email or give me a ring

So I can simply push ignore.

stay-at-home mom

mom parenting

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