Alright people, it's contest time.
You know the drill by now: Write a limerick. Submit it below.
The limerick should have something, some tiny thread, connecting it with childrearing. Mentioning poop is not obligatory, but don't let that stop you. What is obligatory is that the poem actually be a limerick. They have a form, people. Learn it, live it, love it.
Our original poet-in-residence, Emily, from Dream/Baby Haiku, has graciously agreed to judge for us again. Emily's job is to select ten finalists that I will then post here for popular vote. Emily does her job well and these contests would not happen without her, so to her I send my undying gratitude and one of my children's kidneys like we talked about. What she does with it is her business.
For the first time, this contest actually has a sponsor, Hachette Book Group, who will be providing the prizes to the five limerick authors who receive the most votes. This sponsorship will come as a great relief to anyone who has ever won one of my contests because I am notorious for taking months to send out prizes. The prize for our last winner was not even sent in the same year as the contest. I wish I were kidding. So this time, the five limerick authors whose works receive the most votes will each receive, just in time for Father's Day, a box of eleven "dad-themed" books, or ten if yours is the one I open to steal the copy of Living on the Black inside. The complete list of prize books can be found here.
So that's it. As always, there is no limit to the number of submissions you can make. I'll close the contest Wednesday night at midnight EST and have the finalists up Friday morning. Let the limericking begin. Here are mine:
And The Stupid-Twin-Question-of-the-Day Award Goes To...The Dead Woman
Perhaps you are wishing to die, ma'am?
Down your throat this big stroller I might cram
Your question's so rude
Asked in front of my brood
Which one's the aggressive one? I am.
Out of 71 Countries Studied, American Children Rank 72nd
The outlook gets glummer and glummer
Our kids couldn't be any dumber
We don't need to ask why
As the time just crawls by
I blame it on three months of summer
At Least It Wasn't Porn
"Tonight you be the endless-game player,
The pee-wiper of the pee-sprayer,
I've a book I must write!"
Then she caught me that night
Watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer
In my youth I oft found myself drawn
to the masters of danger and brawn
though quite massive of chest,
they were not often best,
tending babies from dusk until dawn.
Posted by: Scylla | June 10, 2008 at 01:52 PM
The one where I suck up to The Dad
So Brian set forth his rant
straight to his twitter account
and I rushed right there
my limerick to share
The Dad, he will never be shunned.
The Kids-Related One
It is true what they say about boys
they don't care for manners nor poise.
large scale demolition
is they're only ambition
and the rest is for them just white noise
Posted by: Shiri | June 10, 2008 at 02:26 PM
The Kids-Related one WITHOUT the Spelling Mistake
It is true what they say about boys
they don't care for manners nor poise.
large scale demolition
is their only ambition
and the rest is for them just white noise
Posted by: shiri | June 10, 2008 at 02:28 PM
Honestly, I don't see why any of us are even trying to compete with Amelia. You should just send her the prize right now.
Posted by: Liza | June 10, 2008 at 02:58 PM
I wish that my daughter was sleepy
Her cries and her wails defeat me
I'm trying my best
But I can't get no rest
And drugging my baby's too creepy
Posted by: Burt | June 10, 2008 at 03:40 PM
our kids are known through the county
in town, on their heads is a bounty
the fault isn't theirs
they were raised by bears
at least that's what we told the last mountie
Posted by: burt | June 10, 2008 at 03:44 PM
Obviously, I'm more of a haiku person, but I can't have The Dad thinking we're ignoring him, so I'll give it a whirl...
Mama Needs a Nap
Two years old and he's giving up naps?
He plays in his crib, sings and claps,
We must find a way,
To wear him out today,
Yep, that's us, at the track, running laps!
Posted by: Abby | June 10, 2008 at 03:56 PM
Why it's nice to not be a single dad...
When her face is all covered with scum,
And there's runny poo all o'er her bum,
And she's screaming like hell
And she's flailing as well
I thank heaven that she wants her Mum.
Posted by: Meandering Michael | June 10, 2008 at 04:48 PM
I planned on one child; I have three--
All girls, so their weddings are on me.
But their brains they must use!
So my girls have to choose:
Get married or get a degree.
Posted by: Stacia | June 10, 2008 at 06:45 PM
There once was a baby named Kit
Whose babbling required a bit.
She'd talk through the night
From darkness to light
Til Daddy just had him a fit.
Posted by: mac daniels | June 10, 2008 at 07:22 PM
'Round the clock the wee lad calls out,"NURSE-Y!"
I think I may call out a curse-y!
After nursing all FOUR!
Boobs are down to the floor
You could carry them out in a hearse-y!
(Okay, maybe I stretched the form a little, but it ain't the only thing stretched out around here. Ahhh, How sad.)
Posted by: ZigZagMama (Tamara Provost) | June 10, 2008 at 08:08 PM
The Lament of The Teenage Boy
(includes tired mama's response!)
"The kitchen is covered in grime!"
(Which is slightly more sightly than slime)
"Hey,if YOU want clean dishes
You've used up your wishes!
Get washin' my boy, now's the time!"
Posted by: ZigZagMama | June 10, 2008 at 08:26 PM
My head may explode from the wrath,
Through the mess on the floor , cut a swath,
I look down in the tub
at my sweet little bub,
there the poop floats in the bath!
My angel has special needs
from her therapy down to her feeds.
I may lose my mind
someday hoping to find
how her poop ended filled up with beads?!?
As a Mom you wish that they paid ya,
Not second to rest have they gave ya,
So you go searching the net,
somehow hoping to get,
a way to stop copaphagia...
(You may want to google copaphagia.) Yes, it is disgusting...
Posted by: Jolene | June 10, 2008 at 09:12 PM
That last one should read:
Not a second to rest have they gave ya.
Forgot my a...
at 8 months pregnant with #3 I'd forget my a** if it wasn't attched...
Posted by: | June 10, 2008 at 09:20 PM
Thunder with a fair chance of more thunder
My son's malady never quits
The worry was giving me fits
'though I find no cures
Google reassures
"Infant trucker farts" gets 10,000 hits
Posted by: Samantha (once more, with feeling) | June 10, 2008 at 09:50 PM
Love it, Burt! The man of the house and I are laughing out loud.
Posted by: Mia | June 10, 2008 at 10:42 PM
Summer Camp
When I picked up my son he said, "Bummer."
The first day of camp made him glummer.
"Do you have a bad day?
Did you not get to play?"
"I thought I was staying all summer."
Posted by: phaidra | June 10, 2008 at 10:53 PM
My Daughter Complains
My brother is driving me nuts
I wish I had one less a putz
He follows me 'round
wherever I'm bound
and jokes about nothing but butts.
Posted by: phaedra | June 10, 2008 at 10:57 PM
My Greatest Hope
To and fro we all rush around
I forget sometimes where we're bound
My kids they do tease,
laugh and giggle, "Your keys!"
One day my brain will be found.
Posted by: faydra | June 10, 2008 at 11:13 PM
Misfire at the Fertility Clinic
My spouse went to check on the score:
Could sperm swim upstream anymore?
But during orgasm,
His hand seized with spasm,
And shot all his wad on the floor.
Posted by: cellomom | June 10, 2008 at 11:23 PM
Time to Get Fixed
Stop pawing me! Now, listen honey.
I'm serious, not being funny.
Get thee to the doc,
or you'll have to just gawk.
I won't hear again, "Died the bunny."
Posted by: phaidra | June 11, 2008 at 12:49 AM
Baseball Boy
There’s no parent prouder than me
When others say, “In the bigs, he’ll be!”
At six he shags flies
His swing could win a prize.
Just as long as he’s never a Yankee.
Posted by: John | June 11, 2008 at 07:16 AM
*The Surrogate's Good News*
The news that I'm carrying twins
Elicits those "all knowing" grins -
Thank God they're my brothers'
And I'm not the mother,
At least this way somebody wins!
*On Being Pregnant With Twins*
My belly has gotten so round
There's no way I can get to the ground.
So the cleaning has stopped
And whatever was dropped
Is so sticky my floor makes a sound.
*Back In The Day*
Her forehead is burning & hot,
And 2 in the morning is not
The best time to try
To understand why
My toddler is vomiting snot.
Posted by: rachel | June 11, 2008 at 09:48 AM
Raising kids is a difficult chore,
But grandkids we dearly adore.
If they pee or they poop
Or they're sick and they whoop
To their parents the kids we restore.
Posted by: Kate Wilson | June 11, 2008 at 10:55 AM
Okay, back for one more try...
Mine, Mine, Mine!
Certain somethings a two-year-old lacks,
Manners, inside voice, sense of tact,
And then there are times,
He crosses the line,
When he wails, "I want mine booger back!"
Posted by: Abby | June 11, 2008 at 12:42 PM