Where’s Your Shoe?

Help me out,
Where’s your shoe?
Let’s get out,
Where’s your shoe?

You had it,
Where’s your shoe?
I saw it,
Where’s your shoe?

Where’s your shoe?
Please blabber,
I beg you.

Please help me,
Where’s your shoe?
Point and see,
Where’s your shoe?

I love you!
Here’s a shoe.
It won’t do,
We need two.

Come now,
Where’s the other shoe?
But how?
Where’s the other shoe?

Think now,
Where’s the other shoe?
I vow,
Where’s the other shoe?

Where’s the other shoe?
Where’s the other shoe?

Will I.
Where’s the other shoe?
Let fly.
Where’s the other shoe?

‘Shoe Play’
Where’s the other shoe?
I pay.
Where’s the other shoe?

Ah here!
Here’s your shoe!
My dear,
Here’s your shoe!

Let’s go,
With your shoes.
Late though,
We got shoes.

Out now,
With our shoes.
Right now,
We can’t lose.

Mama Grace


Shoe or shoes can be replaced with any item you may need to get out of the house, theirs or yours. Keys and wallets cause particularly tricky situations. What’s the best item you’ve had missing?

We’re Jammin

We can do things differently, daddy and me,
We play our instruments to create harmony.
Pitch perfect, when we listen and work together.
Playing through each day with ease and real pleasure.
We can’t change the way we’re made or how we’re taught to play
But we try to jam, to make the best of our day.
Sometimes our rhythms collide and we ask, what’s wrong?
Then get back on track to be part of the same song.
Our notes go through every emotion, yours will too
If you accept the differences, people jam with you.

Mama Grace

Ending with Grace

I did a lot of work on endings when I was teaching and now I will be doing this with Grace. There will be many, I’m sure, as we move and travel around a lot but soon our security company will change and she will not see some of the people who she has grown to love. So this is for her.

Our time has now come to an end,
Know that you were the sweetest friend
And nothing is taken away
Or clouds over our brightest day.
I will have a picture of you,
I hope you remember me too.
The time we had made a mark,
That floods me with light in the dark.
The living patterns that we make,
Will not shatter or ever break.
They are a fluid memory,
That will not be washed out to sea.
Instead we’re stored in each other
Forever making us stronger.

Mama Grace

Mum’s the Label

A person close to me said ‘well you’re a housewife now’ and I was disappointed to hear this but I also have been looking at everything that’s been produced that puts mums and women into categories, though the latter I’ll save for another poem.

There’s so much written on working mums, stay at home mums, studying mums, in fact anything that could put a mum into a category. I also see people label themselves as this and I think, why are we doing this to ourselves? The more these articles are written, the more these roles, that don’t capture us, are carved out.

These casts seek to enslave us and by acknowledging them we give them power. 

Personally I think we are greater than the sum of one thing and what we’re capable of is ever changing and unknown.

Mum’s the label

‘You’re a housewife now’. She says judgmentally.

As if I’ve dropped status monumentally.

I think, is your opinion worth a reply?

Do I put my focus on your small minded eye?

Am I? Because I’m still figuring me out.

Do you have to be so rigid on life’s roundabout?

Then here I am in the age old debate,

Fueled by another woman, now that’s a mistake.

Here you are trying to define me, why bind me?

And join the crap that starts from when a girl’s a baby.

Are you a working mum? Is that all you are?

Of course not. So don’t make me reach to burn my bra.

Why would you want to put a cap on what we do?

Unless you want to help bring down our value?

Here’s a circling debate that bores me to tears,

Let’s hope every limiting title disappears.

We’re not one thing and I can’t sum up in rhyme,

How making labels is a waste of our time.

So I’m a housewife but that’s not the end

There’s a list, commas no stop because I transcend.

Mama Grace


This post first appeared on http://www.meetothermums.com



A Few Wee Questions

Mummy, mummy, look! Why am I wet?
Because you’re still learning to squat on the toilet.
But when do I squat? Mummy I don’t always know.
Your bottom belly says when it’s time to go.
How’s it tell me? What does bottom belly say?
It gives a feeling you’ll recognize one day.
I have to feel it? So it doesn’t speak?
No. If only; potty training would take one week.
So I feel something and then I must go?
It’s trial and error at first, just let me know.
Bottom belly, bottom belly. Speak to me please.
Then be ready to control it, with a tight squeeze.
Mummy what will it be, a pooh or a wee?
There’s a different feeling for each, so you’ll tell me.

Mama Grace

Letting Go


Letting Go

In the beginning there was just you and me

But I stand in a world I want you to see.

I’ll take you to places and show you other things,

To hopefully let go, so you use your own wings.

You can come back and tell me what you’ve done.

My only question will be, did you have fun?

Mama Grace


As I watch her grow, each stage seems to be about letting go. Letting go of her being in our room, holding me for stability, holding her cup and taking time out to let her have her independence.

It reminds me of working with young people with behavioural and special needs, especially those who needed to be restrained; the 1:1 support and systems we put in place all worked but the ultimate goal is for them to have complete independence and feel their power to control their lives.

I hope that I keep letting go, so that she navigates her way through life feeling fully confident and having fun. This is a poem I wrote for her to find her own way.

This post first appeared on http://www.meetothermums.com

Pleasure of Padstow


The pleasure of Padstow, as a family,
Is in the countryside, costal paths and the sea.
Who’d have thought dolphins would ride alongside our boat
And a farm shop stocking ten Cornish gins. Arrgh don’t!
Too much excitement for the food, Cornish cheese!
And freshly caught oysters that brought us to our knees.
We love our seafood, Nathan Outlaw was divine
But Prawn on the Lawn, Oh my! Try it some time.
The many Michelin star restaurants don’t take babies
But Outlaw’s Fish Kitchen, accept the little monkeys.
We were wood fire warm in Bodhi’s Air bnb
A small high spec beach hut, perfect for you, dad and me.
A hot shell massage was the perfect mummy treat
And wine from Cornish vineyards, made for a long receipt.
You see Padstow isn’t all about Rick Stein,
Though he shouldn’t be missed and neither should the wine.
The best beaches are to be found outside of town
And linked by costal paths, whose views didn’t let us down.
Our favourite walk was Carnewas at Bedruthan,
Ending up back at their café, was the best plan.
So the pleasure of Padstow’s in the nature you see
And the local food you can fit in your tummy.

Mama Grace


This Bard Review is independent. I have received nothing in exchange.

A Moment with Grandma

It’s lovely watching the grandparents get so much joy from their grandchildren and how those moments echo the meaning and spirit of life. The moment I loved recently was my little one ‘helping’ grandma with the gardening. It was full to the brim of an exchange between the open, curious and inexperienced G and the wise and openly loving Grandma.

When I kneel down by your side,
I’ve no idea of the pride,
You feel watching little me
Do something completely silly.
I put the world in my mouth,
You watch and feel in good health;
Knowing I’ve got a life long
Of marvel between right and wrong.
Of course there’s no wrong in your eyes,
You’ll nurture, not criticize.
You’re happy watching me explore,
That recipe doesn’t need more.
You give me your patience and time,
To learn how to make the world mine.
I see how you love to play,
But can’t manage everyday.
So you watch me and skip inside,
With your heart powered by pride.
Looking down with love for me,
This moment is all it could be.

Mama Grace