Well...the kitchen floor hasn't been mopped in who knows how long, and the toilet's been collecting grime for weeks...but my dear friend Danielle sent me this poem that speaks to some of that...Poem by Ruth Hamilton, October 1958
Mother, of 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 the bed.
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
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby 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 her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Oh, cleaning and scrubbing will 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. Babies don't keep.
P.S. Thanks Danielle.
6 comments:
Beautiful.
Beyond Words~
It is a wonderful sentiment and very true. I took the advice to put my babies/children (just sk Joey) before the house and I don't regret it. It hurts your pride, but blesses your soul.
That brought tears to my eyes. I hope you're able to take this to heart and not get too stressed out about housekeeping these days. I know I need to remind myself of this very thing often in my attempts to keep the house spotless.
Love it.
Thanks, KJ.
You're welcome! Love you! xxx
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