So now that I'm a mom, I'm realizing just how much I don't/won't get done each day. Granted, we're finally starting to develop a regular routine (thank God), but there is still so much to do in a day, and I find myself thinking each evening about all the plans I had for the day, and wondering where the time went.
The other day, I remembered a poem (by Ruth Hulbert Hamilton) that I'd heard several times, but that never made complete sense to me until recently. I understood the concept of it, but didn't realize just how true it is. Anyway, I've decided that this poem will be my motto while in the child-rearing season of my life:
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,
Lull-a-bye, rock-a-bye, lull-a-bye loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peek-a-boo
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?
Lull-a-bye, rock-a-bye lull-a-bye 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.
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