Beam Me Back To Venus



  BEAM ME BACK TO VENUS

  A LIGHTHEARTED LOOK AT MOTHERHOOD

  DIANNE BARR

  Copyright 2004 Dianne Barr

  Cover design Nigel Tinning

  First printed by CM Digital 2004

  234 Currie Street

  Adelaide, South Australia 5000

  First published in Australia 2004

  Seaveiw Press

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Disclaimer:

  Any similarity in characters or events portayed in these poems is entirely intentional and inevitable. I hope you enjoy seeing something of yourself, your mother, daughters, sons, cousins, sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews, friends and of course, other peoples children in these lines.

  To Trevor, Christina, Alex and Libby

  who are my inspiration

  and

  Mum, thank you for everything you have done for me.

  Table of Contents

  About the Author

  BOUTIQUE BLUES

  FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL

  MOTHERHOOD

  FAMILY PORTRAIT

  TAXI

  A CASE FOR CLONING

  AEROPLANE SPOONS

  WHO WOULD BE A GOLDFISH?

  DISSECTION OF A MOTHER'S HANDBAG

  SATURDAY SOCCER

  QUESTIONS

  WASHING PILE

  FROM THE MOUTHS OF BABES

  MINCE

  THE BIRTHDAY CAKE

  HOW TO BECOME INVISIBLE

  SWIMMING LESSONS

  WOBBLY TEETH

  BEAM ME BACK TO VENUS

  LITTLE YELLOW DUMMY

  THE PRIZE

  BATTLE SCARS

  THE PERFORMER

  LITTLE LESS CONVERSATION

  KNOCK KNOCK

  IRONING

  AMBITIONS OF A 3 YEAR OLD

  BING-GUMS AND FLOPPY CHEESE

  PAPER CHASE

  SUPERMARKET SCREAMERS

  HOMEWORK

  THE TODDLER

  SCHOOL GATE

  TEENAGERS

  EYE TEST

  THE BOYFRIEND

  LOST SOCKS

  TO BE A MUM

  About the Author

  BOUTIQUE BLUES

  The women with the jewels and the triple double chin,

  Demands more discount, from the twenty-dollar bin.

  The tart from Toorak flounces round the store,

  Throwing $500 garments roughly on the floor.

  Sneering down their noses as I pack their plastic bags,

  They look me up and down, as if I'm wearing rags.

  How did I get here? I wonder to myself

  As I flick my feather duster, quickly round the shelf.

  I did have a brain, once, what is it I have missed?

  I researched in a laboratory, an electron microscopist.

  Owned my own business, was a potter in between,

  Exhibited in art awards, had work chosen by the Queen.

  Moved to another country, far away across the sea.

  Left my friends and family, what will be will always be.

  Had three busy children, juggled preschool, work and school,

  And still these patronising women treat me like a fool.

  So why am I here then? I ask myself again,

  With dreams and ideas putrefying in my brain.

  I guess it's just another stage, a step along the way.

  Just because I'm here, doesn't mean I have to stay.

  But until another bright idea becomes a solid fact,

  I'll bite my tongue, smile and say...

  "You look great in that!"

  FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL

  As I look at her on this special day,

  My heart is beating quickly.

  I'm leaving her all alone

  And she's looking green and sickly.

  The hand I hold begins to shake,

  A tear rolls from her eye.

  I walk her slowly through the gate,

  I'd hoped she wouldn't cry.

  But I think she's being really brave

  As I kiss her on the cheek.

  It's the day that I've been waiting for,

  Counting down from week to week.

  The teacher's there to greet the class

  And now it's time to go.

  She looks at me and tries to smile

  But her fear it starts to show.

  So I give her one last cuddle

  Before I have to run

  And whisper softly in her ear

  "You'll be OK now, Mum"

  MOTHERHOOD

  No one ever told me what it means to be a Mum.

  It's a job that's never ending, never really done.

  When that bawling little person is placed upon your breast,

  The pushing part is over, now comes all the rest.

  That's when like a sword it struck me, I don't know what to do!

  Some say motherhood comes naturally, I'm not sure if that's true.

  There's so much information, by authors far and wide

  But I wish the babe would read the books, while it's still inside.

  That wrinkled little bundle, soon will walk and talk and grow,

  Have all its own opinions, won't accept the answer "No."

  Preschool, school and college, travel without a care,

  Mum will get him through it; Mum will get her there.

  There isn't one right answer, one way to raise a child.

  One might be quite placid while the other's running wild.

  There isn't any manual, to instruct on how it's done.

  Life will change and so will I, but I'll always be a Mum.

  FAMILY PORTRAIT

  Time for a family photo,

  Don't everybody moan,

  We'll give them out for Christmas

  To show how much you've grown.

  Now stand up in the middle,

  No, sit down on that chair,

  Stop pulling painful faces

  And fiddling with your hair!

  Leave some room for me to run,

  When the camera's set.

  Smile like you're enjoying this...

  Wait, it's not ready yet!

  Get back to your places

  Who said that you could go?

  Do you have to cry so much

  'Cause I trampled on your toe?

  One more time, now smile

  Don't blink when it goes flash

  And we'll have our family portrait

  And have saved a pile of cash.

  Let's hope that when it's printed

  We have for history to keep,

  A smiling family portrait

  With all our heads and feet!

  TAXI

  Drop the kids at ten to nine,

  Pick them up at half past three.

  Work the hours in between,

  Plan what to have for tea.

  Six-year-old has ballet class,

  Leave her there at four,

  Next stop is the station,

  Get eldest daughter in the door.

  Collect Miss Six, dancing done,

  Poor son's still in the back.

  Soccer starts tomorrow,

  He'll have to cut some slack.

  Home, but first a detour,

  To the shop to buy the bread,

  Also add some other things

  From the list inside my head.

  Phone call from
the husband,

  Can I get him from the tram?

  Going past there anyway

  So don't really give a damn.

  Tomorrow I'll paint my trusty car

  Yellow green and black,

  Install a fare collection thing

  And charge them there and back!

  A CASE FOR CLONING

  I would like to clone myself

  And leave my clone at home,

  While I fly to Alaska

  And she stays home alone.

  I'll cruise among the icebergs

  And watch the Northern Lights,

  While she does all the other stuff

  That I do day and night.

  I'd go to deepest Africa

  See rhino and gazelle.

  While she looks after everyone,

  And works all day as well.

  I'd fly above the Nazca Lines

  And wonder why they're there,

  While she cleans up the kitchen

  With all my love and care.

  AEROPLANE SPOONS

  The aeroplane spoons are grounded,

  There's no way that they're going in.

  The hangar mouth is firmly shut.

  No chance that I can win.

  Yesterday's pumpkin was yummy,

  But today it's something most foul.

  The aeroplane spoons aren't working,

  The hangar's emitting a howl!

  Time for a menu revision,

  It happens most days of the week.

  One day he'll eat only stewed apple,

  The next, just banana or leek.

  I'll be glad when this stage is over,

  He'll out-grow the habit quite soon.

  'Cause I've never seen in a restaurant,

  Adults eating from aeroplane spoons!

  WHO WOULD BE A GOLDFISH?

  I walked into my daughter's room,

  Then stopped in my tracks with fright.

  The goldfish bowl, always green

  Was now a milky white!

  Some curious little person

  Who was interested in boats,

  Dropped soap, shaped as a duckling, in

  To see if it would float.

  The ducky's on the bottom,

  The prognosis, pretty grim.

  The goldfish is now a floating

  No longer will it swim.

  On another such occasion,

  In a bowl I also found

  A very dizzy goldfish

  Spinning slowly round and round.

  This time the poor small creature

  Black pepper it was fed.

  The fish, although well-seasoned,

  Ended up quite dead.

  Who'd be reincarnated as a goldfish

  Not anyone quite sane,

  But at least it's widely recognised

  That fish can feel no pain!

  DISSECTION OF A MOTHER'S HANDBAG

  Observe this female handbag, small and dainty in its form

  But note, that like a virus, a mutation will be born.

  If the owner produces offspring, it's size becomes immense

  Extra zips and pouches grow, to fit the burgeoning contents.

  Take this average mother's handbag, we'll dissect it now, with care.

  Note the handles are quite stretched, the zippers showing wear.

  Remove its load with caution, you'll know when it's time to stop,

  There will be some missing car keys and a sticky lollypop.

  There's an asthma inhaler, a wallet