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.
-Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
It's hard to believe that a year ago at this very minute, I was hours from meeting the face that would change my life forever.
Liam, you've made all our days brighter and all our laughs louder and all of our minutes are much more treasured with you in them.
Tonight I rocked my sweet boy to sleep for the very last time as a 'non' one-year-old. I cried into his hair and inhaled his scent for an extra long time, and then we sang 'Happy and you know it' and he clapped his hands, like he really loves to do. I lay him down in his crib and he stared up at me with those big eyes and I stared back, wondering how in the world he got so big so fast. Somewhere in between sleepless nights, growing teeth, and eating goldfish for the first time, my sweet cuddly baby turned into a little boy.
And so the cleaning and scrubbing in my house is waiting for tomorrow, because babies truly, truly don't keep.