Check your head

I'm a mom who swears, I'm a lady with a mouth that turns out it's own shorthand. That does not always fly when you have youngins with expectations of motherly self control in place at all times, even during those phases that bring out the worst. I know and remember the betrayal of harsh words, yet even with all that ammunition to be the best or at least better, I have failed, maybe not forever, but enough to know that things I've said have made the permanent mark that we wear on the interior's suit; colored with rips, tears, blood and memories of home that isn't always as safe and sound as I'd like to portend.
Maybe there's a chance when it's all explained and rationalized that I can't always be vigilant if everyone and everything needs something at once and Griffin is barking for the ball that he shoved out of his own reach for the cazillionbillionth time, even with all that I better hold my fucking tongue.