"Babies Don't Keep"

It's already January 18. Is everyone amazed like me how quickly the time passes? I'm not complaining, just trying to ensure that I'm making the most of it.

When Haley was a baby I was really stressed over trying to take care of her and doing all my regular chores. (Not that Brent doesn't help, but for the most part we prefer my cooking and I don't trust him to wash the laundry.) Well, two kids later I'm still trying to figure out how to juggle it all. The only wisdom I've acquired on this subject is that everything does eventually get done (even if it's not until it absolutely has to be done) and spending time with my family is more important than not having any dirty dishes in the sink. I'm still learning to practice what I preach. Melissa shared this poem with me four years ago when I was worried about my messy house and the never-ending pile of dirty laundry. I repeat the last line of this poem to myself almost everyday.

"Babies Don't Keep"

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, rockabye, lullaby 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? (lullaby, rockaby, 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.

-- Author Unknown