count me absent

where I live,
the day begins
not with the godless alarm
but with a cotton-topped
boy, chatting at me
from his crib

breakfast is slow,
between 'big, big world'
and 'sesame street,'
cheerios or oatmeal,
and when daddy's home,
eggs and toast

the morning is
playtime in the wet grass,
a little dog running,
the boy giggling--
or indoors with picture-books, weebles
and the tot-sized basketball goal
daddy loves to play

where I live,
lunch is cheese sandwiches
and bananas
and then, because mommy
needs it more than the boy,
naptime

the afternoon is for
errands, to the park,
the mall, the grocery store,
or maybe a needless ride to sonic
for the change of view

dinner is sometimes
with daddy, sometimes just us,
but always ends with 'wheel of fortune'
the spinning irony of cash and prizes

bath-time, another day done,
the boy yawning and splashing,
just as tired, me, laughing, holding on,

bedtime is snuggles and 'hush little baby,'
the toddler, bigger by the
day, so that my arms and back
ache, but I don't let go,

where I live, a little boy rules
my day, sunup to sundown,

so count me absent
for another year,
as long as this gratitude
quiets my restless soul