The “Bad” Mom.

(Inspired by a story by Aimee Blanchette)

My mother never loved me, cuz she never would supply

Me with probiotics or a knotted Windsor tie.

She often tucked me into bed and left me in the dark

Without a bedtime story—which I think was pretty stark.

 

I always felt neglected when Art Linkletter was on;

She wouldn’t bother to get up and fetch me a pecan.

And when I said a bad word I did not get therapy;

A bar of soap inside my mouth was good enough for me.

 

She liked to use Chef Boyardee when she was in a rush,

And poisoned me with sugar in my cereal and mush.

She let my laundry pile up, let my shoe laces all fray.

You never would mistake her for a stainless Doris Day!

 

She gossiped with the neighbors when I needed a nose wipe,

And didn’t care when I ate apples green and quite unripe.

My mother fell down on the job of making me behave.

I’m sorry to report that she was NOT the perfect slave.