This boy is seriously an angel. No kidding. He sleeps, he eats, and he plays. Almost no crying. He would certainly enjoy spending his whole day in my lap, (which I too would enjoy), but we've both agreed that too many days of solid snuggling, and constant baby holding would lead to massive piles of laundry, overflowing sinks, and a very hungry family. So, I occasionally tear myself away from his irresistable-ness to do my other duties.
What is it about a baby that is so enticing? I know it's odd, but I also know I am not alone, (come on, admit it) but sometimes I just want to squeeze/eat him. Seriously, those cheeks...
Not to mention the world's sparkliest eyes.
And juicy fingers, legs, and toes.
I love this wee little fella. I love being the queen of his world. It makes me feel like a million bucks to watch him light up and start flailing those little limbs when I walk into view. I mean, really, who else gives that kind of reaction when you walk in? Why wouldn't I love him?
Since I am feeling all sappy and lovey (and I am trying to refrain from waking up this poor boy to squeeze and slobber all over him) I want you all to read a fantastic poem that I swiped off my friends blog (thanks Jessica). It's my very favorite - I have attached it to my fridge to help me retain proper perspective...so all you mothers...enjoy.
"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
"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 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,
"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.
by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
(first appeared, Ladies Home Journal,
October 1958 as "Song for a Fifth Child")
4 comments:
i have the last part of that poem in an embroidery from my great grandmother- it makes me cry, cause i would read it while rocking my babies...when they were babies- i miss it!
Funny, we had the last part of the poem in embroidery on our wall when I was growing up too. I used to think it was kind of a weird thing to hang on the wall, but now that I have babies, I often repeat it to myself when I am tempted by all the chores but just want to rock a baby a few more minutes.
Your babies are so precious!
Thank you thank you for the poem! I'm sitting here at 1:00 eating lunch in my pajamas, mascara running down my face from yesterday, and my hair up in a gross ponytail dreading the time I need to nurse again! Bradley is such a cutie! I'm glad you put up pictures of him because I don't think I've ever seen him up close like that. He really is so cute...another husband for Camille! Hurray!
I too remember having that last part of the poem beautifully framed in my sister's and my room growing up. It always made me feel more important then all the other stuff my mom had to do.
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