Mother’s Day Poem: Ode to the Inner Woman in Every Mother.

I am mom
I am me
I am mindfully Beating To my own beat
Once the magazines I glee-fully read
Convinced me I was nothing, without a glossy haired head and red full lips
Swaying hips And hipster clothing
All to draw in the men of my choosing
Let me tell you the story of how woman became mamma
Let me illustrate the current drama:
You see somewhere along the line I forgot what is mine
As my life seemed to unfold
There was something I was constantly told
And as I became wife and mamma
I fear something precious was lost
And for mothers day, I want to reclaim it
And tie a ribbon on that box
The tv shows, the movies, the other women
Dripped wisdom
and wit
About the certain way I would fit You see, they said, I would fit- In the square hole
Although I was a round peg.
I would push until eventually I would break
Broken from my body would be my sense of self
As I answered to the call of materialism,
motherhood and martyrdom became painfully intertwined
Practically hard to distinguish
Yet on the slip side was the happy switch
Turn it on at all times Smile and oblige
The object of wealth, spreading rapidly across the shelf-
Of the stores where I pushed the stroller around
Un-connected to my child
In body or mind
And then I left it all behind
Little by little,
I made a new start
I peeled away the layers of nonsense to find Broken from my soul would be my wild heart
Tamed from my mind, would be my inspired notions
I drank the potion
I drank the poison as some say
And the only saving grace is it led me to you, my baby


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And now I take your hand
I lead you to a better land
Let’s get outta here,
I say Let’s run and play
Because as I became mother
I let go of another
I let go of Me
And now that woman,
well she She gets in her “me time”
That’s what they call it
But its allocated, celebrated and somewhere underneath that all
Only leading more so in supporting out downfall
Because me time needs to really be all the time
Because mothers need to really be whole
And no, this isn’t a feminism, self-righteous, self-loving plea
In fact, once again I bring it back to the baby
Because the mother that gives herself to her child
The mother that is woman without being mild
The woman that is mild in her looks
The woman in the leather jacket and boots
The woman with the purple hair
The woman saying I don’t care
The woman in the science lab
The woman earning her Phd
The woman that works full time
The woman that stays at home
The woman with ten children
The woman with one
We are all mothers, we are all the same
No need to compare, align and blame

And that one- That is not scanning for approval
That is not hand cuffed to parenting books
That is not judging or being judged
That is depressed
That is tired
That is blessed
That knows that food, water, safety and love are all her child needs
That doesn’t bleed for society
That knows dirt is healthy Food should be real
That doesn’t slave away for more toys
That doesn’t steal time to fill voids
That allows time to move slow
Simplicity to prevail
That fails
That flounders
That is messy
That is true
This is the greatest gift we give you
Authenticity, raw and true
We, as mothers who are celebrated right now
Let us celebrate being whole, not perfect
Let us celebrate being fractured, not broken
Let us celebrate our truest inner joys
That we share with our little girls and boys
Let us give them honesty and grit
And let’s hope as they celebrate us
It is this that they cheer for
It is the woman you are
It is all that you stand for
Not just what you give
But the way you live
It is not just what you do
Or how you sacrifice
But how you gave us life
And love
And mostly, how you created others
Yet still created and sustained the true you

By: Olivia Treubig
18471393_10155742120916030_268823309_nOlivia is a publisher, poet, writer, mom, new age feminist and nature lover.
She draws on her graduate level education and experience as a parent, wife and woman to describe the beautiful, comical and complex. She attempts to constantly simplify and practice mindfulness, as she finds life with 4 kids to usually be anything but simple and calm.
For more mindfulness & parenting poetry, follow Olivia here:
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