Hi! I'm trying to find a poem that I read once about not worrying too much about laundry and other household chores but spending more time enjoying kids...anyone know of this? Thanks!!
Babies Don't Keep
I hope that my child, looking back on today
Will remember a mother who had time to play;
Because children grow up while you're not looking,
There are years ahead for cleaning and cooking.
So, quiet now cobwebs, dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep.
Erma Bombeck wrote one called "If I Had My Life to Live Overgain." She wrote it when she found out she was terminally ill. You can google her and find it.
Yes! It's called "Song for a Fifth Child" by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton. http://www.eaganwestmomsclub.org/Poetry/SongForChild.htm
Hand Prints On The Wall
Anonymous
One day as I was picking
the toys up off the floor,
I noticed a small hand print
on the wall beside the door.
I knew that it was something
that I'd seen most every day,
but this time when I saw it there
I wanted it to stay.
Then tears welled up inside my eyes,
I knew it wouldn't last
for every mother knows
her children grow up way too fast.
Just then I put my chores aside
and held my children tight.
I sang to them sweet lullabies
and rocked into the night.
Sometimes we take for granted,
all those things that seem so small.
Like one of God's great treasures...
A small hand print on the wall.
OR...
To my child . . . . .
Just for this morning . . . . .
I am going to smile when I see your face and laugh when I feel like crying.
Just for this morning . . . . .
I will let you choose what you want to wear, and smile and say how perfect it is.
Just for this morning . . . . .
I am going to step over the laundry, and pick you up and take you to the park to play.
Just for this morning . . . . .
I will leave the dishes in the sink, and let you teach me how to put that puzzle of yours together.
Just for this afternoon . . . . .
I will unplug the telephone and keep the computer off, and sit with you in the backyard and blow bubbles.
Just for this afternoon . . . . .
I will not yell once, not even a tiny grumble when you scream and whine for the ice cream truck, and I will buy you one if he comes by.
Just for this afternoon . . . . .
I won't worry about what you are going to be when you grow up, or second guess every decision I have made where you are concerned.
Just for this afternoon . . . . .
I will let you help me bake cookies, and I won't stand over you trying to fix them.
Just for this afternoon . . . . .
I will take us to Mc Donald's and buy us both a Happy Meal so you can have both toys.
Just for this evening . . . . .
I will hold you in my arms and tell you a story about how you were born and how much I love you.
Just for this evening . . . . .
I will let you splash in the tub and not get angry.
Just for this evening . . . . .
I will let you stay up late while we sit on the porch and count all the stars.
Just for this evening . . . . .
I will snuggle beside you for hours, and miss my favorite TV shows.
Just for this evening . . . .
When I run my finger through your hair as you pray, I will simply be grateful that God has given me the greatest gift ever given. I will think about the mothers and fathers who are searching for their missing children, the mothers and fathers who are visiting their children's graves instead of their bedrooms, and mothers and fathers who are in hospital rooms watching their children suffer senselessly, and screaming inside they can't handle it anymore.
And when I kiss you goodnight I will hold you a little tighter, a little longer.
It is then, that I will thank God for you, and ask him for nothing, except one more day .............
Could this be it? I even embroidered it, maybe as pennance.
Cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow for babies grow up we've learned to our sorrow ... so quiet down covwebs ... dust go to sleep .. I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep!!
Looks like the moths have destroyed my stitchery, but not the canvas.
I'm sorry, but I don't know the author.
"Rockabye Baby"
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 doen't keep.
-Wendy Lyn
How about his one it is one of my favorites!!!
One hundred years from now
It will now matter
What kind of car I drove,
What kind of house I lived in,
How much money I had in my bank account,
Nor what my clothes looked like
But the world may be a little better
Because i was important
in the life of a child
If you want a copy of it you can email me I have one you can print that has little hearts on ____@____.com
There is yet another one called "Children Won't Wait" by Helen M. Young.
I don't have any poems, but just wanted you to know that reading these tonight brought tears to my eyes. My oldest is 5 and started Kindergarten this year. It seems like the last 5 years -- and 3 kids born in 3 years -- have gone by like a blur. Thanks for the reminder to appreciate it all now!
Here's a poem that is on a print my mom had framed for me when I first found out I was pregnant with my twins.
I hope my children look back on today and see a parent who had time to play. There will be years for cleaning and cooking. But children grow up when we're not looking.
I don't know who the author is. But it rings true. Children do grow up toooo fast, mine are already 7 years old. Enjoy your kids.
I hope my children will look back on today
And see a mother who had time to play.
There will be years for cleaning and cooking
But children grow up while we're not looking.
Dusting and scrubbing can wait 'till tomorrow
For babies grow fast we learn to our sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs and dust go to sleep
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.
I've got one at home I could take a picture of if you want to email me. It is about it won't matter what kind of car you had, etc.. It is pretty long, but good.
don't know the whole thing, but if yo google
cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow, babies grow up, we've learned to our sorrow! so fly away cobwebs, dust go to sleep! I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep! la leche league changed the "rocking" text to "nursing" so you might find it on their website. I say this to myself peridoically if I start to freak out about the state of my house...someday my kids will be off doing their own thing and I'll wish for less time to clean!
Sounds like something Irma Bombeck wrote. One of her last written things was a piece saying that she, if she had it all to do over again, would spend much more time with the family, the children, the people in her life, more playing, more enjoying, more using the good China and good silver every day, and less worrying about the daily cleaning chores, (which are ALWAYS there to be done), and this insight ...toward the end of her life when she was dying with cancer. Google her and you'll discover that she was a treasure!
I think the poem you might be looking for is called
"Song for a fifth Child."
Song for a Fifth Child
by Ruth Hulburt 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 her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For 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.
Something about rocking your baby and cobwebs will keep.....I see someone sent you the words. I am glad, I wanted them also.
Song for a Fifth Child
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 her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
for 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.
by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
