I’m not the mum who’s waiting at school every day
With tea and biscuits ready
And patiently plays with dolls.
I’m not the mum who stopped her career
Stopped her own ambitions
And started putting everyone else first.
I’m not the mum who talks with other mums
About the weather or elections in the village
(It makes me feel lost).
I’m not the mum who vacuums every day
Plans dinners a week ahead
And washes windows every Thursday.
I’m not a mum who stayed with their father
‘Because of the kids’.
We all deserve more than that.
I’m a Wild Mum.
I’m a mum who still feels an inner drive
Of learning and growing and putting myself first
So that I can give more of me.
I’m a mum who travels the world
And comes home weeks later
With gifts and stories about faeries and volcanoes.
I’m a mum who loves her kids more than anything
And loves to leave them behind
To journey within and without.
I’m a mum who sometimes feels stuck
In a little village where everyone knows each other
Has opinions about each other
The witch shunt again.
I’m a mum who sometimes feels ashamed
of not liking all the parts
of being a mum.
And so I release
the imaginary shackles
of the story
of what a mother should be like
and design my own.
I’m a Wild Mum.