A Charlotte Mason Poem

Ode to all Committed (or soon to be) Home Schoolers Everywhere
by amateur poet, Catherine Levinson.

The ant farm just spilled all over the floor,
Last year's science project's walking out the front door
The in-laws left a message, they want to stay awhile,
And your church has discovered they have a pedophile.

You're chronically late to home school P.E.
The phone always rings when you're about to leave.
Your coat's always covered in cat hair,
Once again the husband's out of clean underwear.

Your friend needs help, her twins have the flu,
The kids are holding the plunger asking you what to do
Your inquiries about the toilet are answered with "I don't know."
In the distance you hear "Hey, where's my Play-doh?"

It's time to make lunch but there's nothing to eat.
The postcard in your hand says they've canceled your retreat,
Your stress level hits an all time high,
You can see the kids on the bus waving good-bye.

The play is tonight but your kids haven't rehearsed,
But just when things can't get any worse,
The town gossip assures you "your secret's safe with me,
I've only told two people, or maybe it was three."

Stolen moments in the shower (worrying about grocery money),
You hear "MOM, MOM, the baby looks funny,"
A brief struggle later (of course you're dripping wet),
Hallelujah, you've retrieved the barrette.

Turns out the Latin phrase you've posted has a dirty connotation,
And your husband has determined to work through his vacation,
The math books you've been waiting for are late in arriving,
The lap top you found floating has no chance for surviving.

The kids come in from playing pronouncing their new "word"
Of course it's of the variety you wish they never heard,
Just then you find your three year old is covered in bumps,
That's okay, at least you're all over the mumps.

Phone rings again "You know the meeting's at your house!"
But your caller is competing with "Ed just knocked my tooth out."
Your five year old is threatening to run away,
you owe some allowance and he wants you to pay.

Here comes your neurotic neighbor again,
the one that always reeks of gin (?)
She's not sure if you want to know,
Your son was squirting Mrs. Jones a minute ago.

Another day's over, you've used your time well,
It's time to take off your jean apparel,
Jump in those jammies, let your cares float away,
If anyone waked you there will be "heck" to pay.

When quitting altogether is a temptation to you,
You've got a case of "WHY am I home schooling?!?" blues
Don't pack your bags and run away,
Turn toward heaven and pray, pray, pray.