It was the night before Monday, when all through the home,
Not a creature was stirring—except on Mom’s phone.
The calendars juggled, the schedules all tight,
She whispered her worries alone in the night.

The scissors were missing, the glue sticks were gone,
Yet she knew their location, like dusk knows the dawn.
The backpacks were ready, the lunches all packed,
The mental load balanced, the chaos intact.

The daycare was bracing for plagues on the way,
She counted her sick days, “Please last through May.”
The childcare was covered for schools that would close,
She carried the burden that everyone knows.

Her mind was a checklist, her heart was a shield,
She guarded the chaos, refused to yield.
Appointments remembered, the dentist, the shots,
The playdates, the parties, the endless “what-nots.”

And then came the sweetness, so fleeting, so true,
A voice saying softly, “Mommy, I wuv you.”
Snuggles that lasted not even a minute,
But filled up her soul with the whole world within it.

The laundry was waiting, the dishes were stacked,
The emails unanswered, the patience half-cracked.
Yet motherhood carried both heavy and light,
The chaos by morning, the comfort by night.

She was the safe place, the anchor, the guide,
The one who knew everything others let slide.
And though she was weary, her love never ceased,
Her children saw magic where she saw the beast.

So here’s to the mothers, who carry it all,
The scissors, the schedules, the daycare call.
The ones who keep going when patience runs thin,
And still find the joy in a “wuv you” grin.