Future me
has it all together.
I'm pretty sure she’s
totally bossing it
at every turn.
Her kids don’t
squabble and certainly
don't have Cheerios
in their hair
or toothpaste
on their cheeks.
She has parents' night
and sports day
and World Book Day
and bloody bake sale day
in the diary with
appropriate reminders
(note: buy cakes).
She remembers her
husband's night out,
without question.
(Yes, he did tell her.
Remember?
While she was
texting someone back
about that bloody bake sale).
Bossing it at work,
completely engaged.
Most definitely not
doing that
weird trembly-lip thing
trying to pretend
not to be yawning
after yet another night
of musical beds.
Because she sleeps!
Eight blissful
hours, like a
longed-for
love affair
with a flame
who feels
comfortable,
before everything
went turbulent.
And check out all
those healthy
bulk-cooked
meals, boasting
bundles of fresh
organic vegetables,
so delicious that the
children cry
that they just
cannot abide
chicken nuggets anymore.
And she’s back
to her pre-birth
weight. No wait,
her wedding dress
weight (because,
well, why not?)
and she actually goes
to the gym instead of
thinking about it
while eating
chocolate
on the couch.
She has a night out.
No cancelling
due to: temperatures/
chicken pox/
general lurgy passed
through snotty kisses.
She texts you back and
even thinks of
a funny reply;
because future me
is funny.
Just like old me was,
once upon a time.