Inspiration

I sooooo dig this poem. It inspires me when I get that taffy feeling, ya know, the one where stuff is pulling at you and you're just standing still, trying to decide which pull is (or should be) strongest? P's a shoo in (and he knows it) but I still hear that silent social nagging singing in my synapses: dishes, dirt, duties, (blog)...

Ya, lame attempt to make up for my missed minutes logging my child's every canoodle... But read the poem anyway, its totally true :)

"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 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 her 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'

~Ruth Hulburt Hamilton~