Keep pushing me, children.
Find everything I think I know
and tell me why it isn’t true.
Discover what makes me scream
and do it.
Do it again.
I never expected that being a mother
was more about losing my identity
and less about shaping yours.
You already know who you are.
That’s good.
Because someday when you have
your own children, you’ll get
to run into all of your “I would nevers”
and let them shake you.
But there is one thing you must always do.
Brush your teeth.
And then, when it rises up in you,
and only because you want to,
hug me, and tell me
that you love me.