So if you happen to stop by our house right now, you'll be impressed with the amount of dust bunnies/Cricket's hair on the floor and the foot tall stack of magazines that will never be read and unless Nick has been home, there will be a stack of dishes in the sink. But, it's OK because I'd rather be adoring my little guy. Rocking him just makes my heart burst with joy.
8 weeks old
This poem is one of my favorites right now because it rings true!
"Babies Don’t Keep"
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.
Author: Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
(And for the record, I'm typing this post up at 6:30am since I woke up at 5am needing to pump. Worth decided to sleep all through the night and is still sleeping! Yay! I'm awake though so I thought I'd take a second to blog instead of cleaning... #priorities)