Thursday, March 7, 2013

babies don't keep

While I was growing up, my mother had this poem hanging on the wall of our family room on some homemade medium of sorts... cross stitched? hand painted?  I can not even vaguely remember what it looked like hanging on that wall all those years.  But the words are stored permanently in the subconscious recesses of my mind. They have been running through my head all day, and I thought I would bless you by sharing them.

Cleaning and scrubbing 
         can wait til tomorrow
For babies grow up, 
                     we've learned to our sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs, 
   dust go to sleep
I'm rocking my baby 
               and babies don't keep
Author Unknown

Sommer was sick this week and needed a lot of Momma-time.  I rocked her to sleep today for the first time in a very long time. It was special. To be fair to myself, however, the girl has received (demanded?) a LOT of rocking in her little lifetime. Still, it was special. And well worth ignoring the pile of dishes in the sink.

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