How do I love thee, let me count the daze
of midnight feeds with squally newborn twins.
Those screaming fits? They say it’s just a phase,
like diaper rash or dimpled double chins.
And yet true love cannot real true love be
‘til bed be seized by tiny infant kings,
and hands are doused with errant newborn pee.
We go to wash and lose our wedding rings.
Such love have I for you, my darling spouse,
you say I’m cute, my stretch marks say you lie.
When spit up stains each fine expensive blouse,
I yell. But still, you call me sweetie pie.
I’ve wept, I’ve laughed, this was your plan:
to love me always, steady man.