Babies Don't Keep

      Several years ago, John's parents moved to Brazil. John and I moved into their home in order to take care of it while they were away. The move took us from a 900 square foot apartment to a 6500+ square foot home. It would be a gross understatement to say that I felt overwhelmed with trying to keep up with the house and the kids (I had Brian and Caitie at the time).  I often found myself telling the kids "no" to various requests because I felt the need to clean, clean, clean. It was during those years that I found this video. Needless to say, it spoke volumes to me.

     Over the years I have found myself going in cycles. Sometime I am really good about putting aside the cleaning and not worrying about what so and so will think if they stop by and my house is a disaster. Other times, I want the house clean for me - and my pride. I think I want a house where everything is always in it's place and there are no smudges on the wall or crumbs on the floor. Then I remember that the 6 little people who bless my life so abundantly are the same ones who make such a mess.  Sure it is my job to make sure that they have clean clothes, food to eat and a sanitary place to live. But, even more importantly, it is my job to nurture them, love them, teach them. When they grow up they won't remember if their mom was the best house keeper in the area (thank goodness), they are going to remember the time that I spent with them and how loved they felt when we were together.

     So, today I am only a little ashamed to admit that more often than not my house looks like this

and worse. While I still haven't let go completely, I have definitely made some progress from the mom that felt unable to spend time with her children because of her responsibilities to the house.

 

I often think about this poem when I am tempted to spend day after day cleaning while my children entertain themselves.

 

Babies Don’t Keep

By Ruth Hulbert 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, Lullabye, rockaby, lullabye loo.

 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, Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.

The cleaning and scrubbing can 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.