So I took a little blogging break. I seem to do that every once in a while. Blogging is much harder than it looks. It is not for lack of content, or pictures or time. It is just that sometimes I would much rather spend those precious and limited moments with my baby, soaking in anything and everything that she does. You hear people with children always say such cliche statements like how great it is to experience life through your child's eyes, etc. Well, when you have a baby you don't think those statements are so cliche anymore. There really is no greater joy than watching your daughter stare so intently at her little hand for what she acts like is the first time when really it is more like the 17,000th time, today, then try to stuff it in her mouth. Babies don't keep. Fannie B don't keep.
The poem below pretty much sums up what I have been doing lately.
Song for a Fifth Child
By Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
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
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?
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.
The cleaning and scrubbing can 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 and babies don't keep.
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