WHEN MUTTI CAME TO VISIT

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  • Dedicated to my husband
                                    

                           Dedicated to my late husband,  George

I was only twenty-six and pregnant as could be 

When Mutti arranged to come to help  me.

That meant flying right over the sea

To come all the way from Germany. 


It seemed wise to invite my mother-in-law

But we had no idea of what was in store.

One problem was that we'd never met

But we'd handle that - why get upset ?


Well, before we knew it, the baby was due.

All I had left was a week or, perhaps, two.

We weren't exactly sure but we thought we knew.

"First babies are late," we'd been told by a few.


Thus I taught right up until the month before.

Waiting for the baby would have been a bore.

I worked hard at school, even later than four.

The janitor tried to kick me out the door.


In summer the classrooms were hot as hell.

The students listened for the final bell.

The good part was that I taught mostly P.E.,

Track and field outside, good for baby and me.


When she arrived, we drove south to meet her plane,

A warmer welcome than shipping her by train.

She saw an Esso sign near the airport.

"Das komnt von Deutschland," said she with a snort.


On arriving home, she commandeered the place.

She became so bossy ; we went at her pace.

Every morning we were wakened at dawn.

She disturbed all the neighbors by mowing lawn.


When company came she ran the whole show.

I was always relieved when they would go.

She insisted that I must have a boy.

So persistent, she really did annoy.


When I brought the baby from the hospital,

She became the mother, the father and all.

Each time I went to check him in his room

She always followed with shovel and broom.


The days were hot; the baby needed fresh air

But she covered him from his toes to his hair. 

I told her nicely and I would even plead

But she would not listen; she would take no heed.


Before long came the day when I'd had enough.

I decided to speak up, to get quite tough,

Resorted to kidnapping my own son,

Took him in the pram for a day of fun.


When my poor husband arrived home from work,

Mutti and I went completely berserk

Telling him all that had happened that day.

He certainly wished that he'd stayed away.


Day after day things went from bad to worse.

No one was happy; she became a curse

So we decided that, for our own good,

We'd send her back home as soon as we could.


She actually staged a hunger strike.

My only escape was to ride my bike.

I really hoped that she would take a hike

Or I would adopt her out to some German she'd like.


We were ever so relieved to say goodbye.

There were no regrets; we certainly did try.

                                                              September, 2013

               Revised and amended  May 5, 2021

              Revised August 12, 2023

A/N I believe this was a favorite of my autobiographical poems for my husband and

         sister-in-law. Every word of it is true.

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⏰ Last updated: Aug 13, 2023 ⏰

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