When shit gets tough,
When life’s not fair,
When baby barf pervades your hair,
When Mama Drama comes on strong,
When Retrograde has done you wrong,
When you just want to drown your sorrows,
And find some hope for bright tomorrows,
When fellow mamas just don’t get it
(’Cause you’re still you—and don’t forget it!),
Call your friend who has no spawn,
And rendezvous on your front lawn.
She’ll talk you down from off the ledge;
Her faith in you she’ll pinky-pledge.
“You’re a woman first,” she’ll tell you straight:
“Martyrdom is not your fate.”
For a Rebel Aunty is full of reason
To get you through the icy seasons.
When guilt and doubt hail on your soul,
She’ll say, “Some things you can’t control.”
She’ll declare her pride,
And wipe your tears,
And remind you that
you’re
not
your
fears.
You’ll hug her tight and thank her so.
Could you live without her?
(You don’t want to know.)
But rest assured, she’s here to stay,
That aunty won’t just slip away.
Trust—she knows your value, too;
She wants you there inside her crew,
To show to her the other side,
And give her hope if she decides
To procreate and join your tribe
Of Rebel Mamas far and wide.
But no matter how the tale unfolds,
No matter what the future holds,
In her you’ll have a friend for life.
Your ride-or-die. Your sister-wife.