Five minutes spare?

Cup of tea on a wooden board

The weeks can seem endless, and sometimes a struggle
But when I sit back and I muse on the juggle
No wonder we're tired; no wonder we're stretched
The list of events makes you feel downright wrecked.

One sandal is lost, and the printer is jammed
The youngest, at preschool, got covered in sand
The library book? It just went into the pool
Since when did the juniors dictate all the rules?

My eyes might be aging - I can't see a thing
A pole in a car park? ...The car got a ding
The car key is broken and now just a stump
It's not even Wednesday, not over the hump

And just when you think that you might be on top
One of the juniors comes down with the pox
So off to the doctor - it must be contagious
Into the wait room and sit there for ages

Time to reflect and to feel quite dejected
And note all the people you've likely infected
The doctor inspects and is seemingly calm,
"That isn't the pox you see there on her arm."

I listen intently and feel like a fool
But jumping for joy, she can still go to school.
I love being busy, that's how it should be,
But I'd like just five minutes to finish my tea.