- Babies don't keep -

a not-so-real-life depiction

Today I cleaned my house  - it was an exhausting and frustrating affair! I had a buildup of all those little jobs that I continually scratch off my To Do List without doing - The “save for next time” kinda chores that pile up. Yuck. I keep a pretty tidy house, not excessively clean, but tidy. Don’t scoot my coffee table out of its imprinted place on the rug and don’t lift my couch cushions, that kind of tidy. 

Yet, if you looked around my house now, after everyone else is asleep, you might scoff at my “cleaning-day claims.”  Between the time I tossed the last dirty rag in the hamper and tucked my sweet mess-maker into bed he managed to keep himself busy undoing what I had worked so hard to get done. The curse words came to a grinding halt against my tightly pursed lips as I observed  my little bobbleheaded boy meandered around the living room taking little bites of his carrots then spitting them on the floor. I shrieked in panic as I ran down the stairs with a fresh diaper only to find a puddle of “pee-pee” soaking into my freshly vacuumed rug. I rubbed my head and held back tears as he yanked at my clothes and screamed for a SECOND pickle as I tried to make dinner. And I whimpered in defeat as every toy was taken from the toy basket and every pillow pulled from the couch.

Now, as I slump back in this chair with an aching back and bleach dried hands I have to take a second look at my day. Despite today’s obstacles I have to say that, in the end, today was a good day…   

Because despite it all I also got to swoop my groggy eyed baby up in my arms after his nap (the one time of the day that he lays calmly and cuddles), I got to watch him giggle with glee as he kicked the ball around the yard and stomp his feet with delight as he drank his “special treat” - apple juice. I got to feel his little arms wrap around my neck and vigorously squeeze me (not violently), as he gave me a Big Bear Hug. The “Mama’s,” “Peese’s” and even the “No’s,” are little words I cherish – and I have to remind myself of that. No amount of shredded, scattered food, messy toys or pee can take those moments away from me. 

So in the end I say, “Do your worst little boy, do your worst!” And tomorrow I’m sure he will, but I can handle it - As long as the hugs keep on coming and the giggling outweighs the screaming. I also feel a little comfort knowing that tonight someone could scoot my coffee table or lift my cushions, because all you’d find is clean, clean, clean!   

This poem was published in the Lady's Home Journal in 1958 and is one that both my dear Granny and my mother-in-law repeat(ed) often. 

SONG FOR A FIFTH CHILD

by Ruth Hulbert Hamilton

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 his eyes the most wonderful hue? 
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

Babies don’t keep.