Poetry by Kali Rose Schmidt
Motherhood Undone
There was this one time my now-husband fucked me up against a window in a hotel room in
Times Square, unsuspecting voyeurs hustling down below,
just like we were.
But now my primary vocation has a job description that includes
wiping butts and
brewing bottles and
I’m not supposed to write about sex anymore.
(Let’s not forget how my kids actually came to be,
but
that’s too much,
off limits;
stop talking.)
Now sex is reserved for the people without kids,
the ones just practicing,
the women who haven’t yet created life.
Let’s not forget
I’m only 26.
I get published in all the parenting zines,
promoted in the motherhood niche,
followers who wanna read about autism and meltdowns and
babies who won’t
sleep.
Let’s not forget most new moms are struggling with regaining their sexuality.
But if I’ve got a little black dress on and I’m looking especially fuckable as I’m pushing
my double stroller around downtown,
I get
those looks
from people of a certain age.
Let’s not forget I’ve got visible abs.
When I’m standing in line at Starbucks and a guy I don’t know tries to make a move and a guy I
do know says,
"She’s got two kids, bro."
as a deterrent,
I’m amused.
Let’s not forget women like physical pleasures too,
(ESPECIALLY if they’ve got two kids.)
Those times I’ve got a drink in my hand and my tattoos are out and my hair is down and I’m
laughing and swaying and cursing and flirting,
people are always shocked to find out
I’m a mom.
Let’s not forget motherhood does not consume a woman’s identity any more than
fatherhood does a man’s
(and that last part is a joke, right?).
remember that motherhood is divine.
that motherhood can be sensual,
sexual,
because motherhood means that a woman is there, giving to her children all that she can,
but
it also means that a woman is there, looking to explore and enjoy and delight herself
- all that she can.
There was this one time my now-husband fucked me up against a window in a hotel room in
Times Square, unsuspecting voyeurs hustling down below,
just like we were.
But now my primary vocation has a job description that includes
wiping butts and
brewing bottles and
I’m not supposed to write about sex anymore.
(Let’s not forget how my kids actually came to be,
but
that’s too much,
off limits;
stop talking.)
Now sex is reserved for the people without kids,
the ones just practicing,
the women who haven’t yet created life.
Let’s not forget
I’m only 26.
I get published in all the parenting zines,
promoted in the motherhood niche,
followers who wanna read about autism and meltdowns and
babies who won’t
sleep.
Let’s not forget most new moms are struggling with regaining their sexuality.
But if I’ve got a little black dress on and I’m looking especially fuckable as I’m pushing
my double stroller around downtown,
I get
those looks
from people of a certain age.
Let’s not forget I’ve got visible abs.
When I’m standing in line at Starbucks and a guy I don’t know tries to make a move and a guy I
do know says,
"She’s got two kids, bro."
as a deterrent,
I’m amused.
Let’s not forget women like physical pleasures too,
(ESPECIALLY if they’ve got two kids.)
Those times I’ve got a drink in my hand and my tattoos are out and my hair is down and I’m
laughing and swaying and cursing and flirting,
people are always shocked to find out
I’m a mom.
Let’s not forget motherhood does not consume a woman’s identity any more than
fatherhood does a man’s
(and that last part is a joke, right?).
remember that motherhood is divine.
that motherhood can be sensual,
sexual,
because motherhood means that a woman is there, giving to her children all that she can,
but
it also means that a woman is there, looking to explore and enjoy and delight herself
- all that she can.
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Kali Rose Schmidt is a writer and mother living in Toronto. She is a hopeful romantic, a home birther, and an Herbal Med. student. More of her work can be found at RiddleandRose.com.
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