ALL I WANT TO DO IS WAKE UP BEFORE MY KIDS

Where is the set-like-flint-ian state of self-sacrifice? 

Where is the granite fist of my will? 

Where's panting after higher truths?

(Bet my husband could stand for me to find some higher truths

—a parent joke, get it?—my elbow in your ribs)

Can't stand this goddam phone

(Much less to let it wake me)

Can't find time alone

(Except at an hour that makes me hate me)

I don't know what happened 

to my friends. 

I don't know how other mothers seem to have more 

strength.

I'm as old as Britney Spears 

with children less than half as young,

and while that might seem energizing, 

I just want to curl up

with a bottle

of "milk"

and suck my *thumb.

**Disclaimer: I was never a thumb sucker but I am raising one**