"Babies don't keep"

I came across this poem, written in 1958 and originally published in Ladies Home Journal, and it was a gentle reminder of my priorities as a Mother. I find myself wishing away a few months until he can sit up on his own or just entertain himself for only 30 minutes so I can do the dishes or paint a picture or check my email.  I realized this is my baby and a baby he will not be much longer. This is my duty as a mom and my PRIORITY is Tripp; not getting a workout in, not playing basketball, not painting a picture or doing household chores. Already he has grown and changed so much and those days are in the past. The dust and the laundry will still be there tomorrow. But, children grow up. Each day that God gives me is another chance to love on my son and cherish the moments I have with him.

Song for a Fifth Child

By Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

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, 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 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 babies 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.