If I were a poet...

this is what I would write about from my life today.

My girls making art on the deck around our community pool by dipping paint brushes in goggles full of water, and how by the time they were finished, the pictures had almost disappeared in the heat.

How my pretty daughter still looked pretty even though she pouted and moped when she didn't get her way and how my heart broke a little that she would not give an inch. And that I was embarrassed by her and for her and that I didn't handle it well.

Watching two balloons sail up in the sky. I wondered if they were let go intentionally of if there was a small child crying about it.

Having dinner with my son in folding chairs at an outdoor concert. Just sitting and being comfortable together.

The way my back feels now that is has been overly baked and how my head and eyes hurt a little after too much sun and chlorine.

How it's funny when a bunch of strangers come together to watch more strangers make their music and how we are all united for that little bit of time.

I felt glad today when I saw someone else's child throw a fit. It made me feel better about myself and then it made me feel worse that I felt that way! Motherhood!

And I would put into words the range of emotions I felt all day and the few tears that squeezed out even though I didn't have a full on cry. How I was happy and content and frustrated and exasperated and sad and back to happy and grateful and tired. Only I would say it in such beautiful prose and the words would turn and flow and resonate with someone besides me.

How I wish I could be a poet.