Today I’m just reposting a poem I read today, but I promise it isn’t a cop-out to avoid having to come up with something blogworthy. I’ve heard this poem before but it means a little bit more to me each time I read it. Learning to prioritize my life has taken on a whole new feel since I’ve had children. Unfortunately, parenthood is the biggest competition on the face of the planet, with special prizes given out to those who can keep their house clean, healthy meals on the table, and look good doing it all while maintaining that self-identity and personal interests. Realistically, raising children calls for all rules to be thrown out the window except the one where you just spend all day loving your children. If you get that one done, you’re good. Forget the dishes.
Babies Don’t Keep
by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I’ve grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren’t his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.
The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But 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.