Pseudo Mother's Day

You’re not their mother and it’s not really your day.

You are just a guardian, a step, not the “mommy,” not ever, not today.

The wart on your nose grows bigger in every way, when you tell them that they have misbehaved and cannot play.

Their mommy only takes them on fun days and they are never grounded there.

You make them sit in “timeout”; you are just too much to bear. At least until they want candy, or a game, or someone to listen and really care.

You are just as mean as their dad and never let them have fun.

Their mommy carried them in her belly, but not you, not either one.

They will never thank you for the protection you provide, for the house that you pay for or letting them sleep by your side.

You may never be called mommy, but they love you all them same.  You may not be the “real mom,” but they will understand someday.

You were the one that was always there and the one that kissed their booboos and combed their hair.

You are the one that takes them to park, when their dad is to busy working on the car. 

You take them swimming on warm afternoons.

You hold them when they are crying and chase away the evil goons.

You are not their mother; you are their Caribel. When writing an I love you letter yours is the name they spell.

They will know someday and love you all the more, because you chose to love them and unlike their “real mom” didn’t find it such an unbearable chore.