Mother of Twins
There's two to wash, there's two to dry,
There's two to argue, there's two who cry,
One's in the mud, having a ball
The other holds a crayon,
Another marked wall.
Some days seem endless my patience grows thin
Why was I chosen to be the mother of twins?
The answer comes clear at the end of each day,
as I tuck them in bed and to myself I say,
There's two to kiss
There's two to hug
and best part of all there's two to love