I came across this poem a while back, and I wanted to share it with you.


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?
Shes up in the nursery, blissfully rocking!

Oh, Ive 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, peek-a-boo)
The shoppings not done and theres nothing for stew,
And out in the yard theres a hullabaloo,
But Im playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Arent her eyes the most wonderful hue?
 (Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

Oh, cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
But children grow up, as Ive learned to my sorrow,
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust, go to sleep.
Im rocking my baby and babies dont keep!

~ Ruth Hulburt Hamilton


 Right now I am typing this one-handed. I have a baby nestled up under my chin. This little guy loves being in my arms. He wont sleep very well anywhere else. This kind of interferes with "life".

But maybe it doesn't. Maybe this is "life". Holding my baby. Making him feel secure and safe and loved. 

Hold your babies, mamas! The big and the small. Because you will always have chores, but you wont always have them.

Lots of Love,


  1. I LOVE this!! <3 Yes! I could do better at this for sure.


Post a Comment

Recent Posts

Recent Posts Widget