I Am Grateful for This Poem

My mom printed the poem below out for me when I was pretty much STUCK on the couch or in the glider (until it broke) with Jack for the first several months of his life.  It was perspective I needed at that time.  I stuck it on the fridge and read it...a lot.  For me, this was a reminder that babies grow up fast and that I wouldn't be "stuck" on the couch nursing a baby for the rest of my life (of course, as soon as he became mobile I was wishing for the days when he'd nurse and fall asleep on me and I could just sit down!).

Now that Jack is bigger, this poem holds even more meaning.  The author was right.  Babies *don't* keep.  I knew it, but I didn't know it at the same time.  This time around, when I rock my baby to sleep at night, I take these words to heart.

Song for a Fifth Child

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 as shiftless as Little Boy Blue

(Lullaby, rockaby, 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 and 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.

1958   Ruth Hulburt Hamilton