I'm at home with my children.
I'm a stay-at-home mother.
I cook and I clean, one more than the other.
And one far better, I'd much rather clean,
it's all take-aways once they're over 18.
I'm at home with my children.
I home-educate them.
Some sewing, some singing and curriculum trends.
Some times tables rules, some flags of the world,
a lot of being schooled by two little girls
I'm at home with my children.
That's how I answer.
I don't say I'm a dancer of the sean-nós leaning,
(I'm quite alright but my aunt is a demon).
I don't say that I write, that I play the piano,
I don't say that I sing, (but I'm no soprano).
I don't say that I practice spontaneous paces
by trying new things on a regular basis.
I don't say that I train myself in dialects,
I don't say that I paint, (nothing too complex).
I don't say I do paid work when I can:
I edit, I teach, I'm a scribe for exams.
I don't say I'm the actuary and president.
I manage this factory to the last cent.
I don't say that I meditate in circadian flow.
I don't say I've a thing for opera, you know.
I don't say that I've closed in an area by trees
because I hope to be, someday, a keeper of bees.
I'm at home with my children.
I'm not short of talents.
Despite what you think I've a life that's well-balanced.
There's not much in my wallet, I've rarely a bean.
But to be quite honest, I'm living my dream.
We don't borrow and we don't travel far,
so we've little to show but what's there is ours.
Why you're so concerned, I just don't know,
My strings are all mine and they're on my bow.
And I am a total believer in taking my time
towards any achievement I might have in mind.
I never rush, I don't see the sense,
I've been served well enough by taking small steps.
(But that may be a side effect of the fact
that I'm often tired, I'm a taker of naps.)
Modesty's not one of my delusions,
but my time is the rarest
so I've made a conclusion:
I don't want to share it
fielding your queries about my ambition:
I told you, I am at home with my children.
