I love this poem...I am planning to post it on my fridge for a visual reminder when I begin feeling overwhelmed! The housework and cooking and chores will always be around...my three babies will only be little once.
Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(lullaby, rock-a-bye, Lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek-peek-a-boo).
The shopping is not done and there's nothing for stew
And out in the yard there is a hullabaloo.
But I'm playing "Kanga" and this is my "Roo."
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(lullaby, rock-a-bye, lullaby loo).
The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.
Ruth Hulburt Hamilton, 1958
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oh, Jen, that is so true...I need to remind myself of that more often.
ReplyDeleteI can attest to the fact that the poem is true. All of my "babies" are grown up, my house is still messy, and I must now play with my grandchildren! I will never run out of valid reasons for skipping the house cleaning.
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