Today

"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 (his) 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."

This is called, "Song for a Fifth Child" by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton. And if you count the baby we lost between Rayna and Colsen, I suppose Miles counts as our 5th. (But it seems appropriate for any child!)

My mom used to have part of this poem on a plaque hanging on the wall (wasn't I blessed to grow up in a home where this was valued?), and I always loved it. But now I love it even more -- and it's a great reason to have a less-than-clean-and-organized house! (I need all the excuses/reasons I can get)

(The picture above was taken a couple nights ago... I love when babies sleep with their butts up like this!)