Friday, June 24, 2011

Things I'm learning . . .

I have so many blog posts that run through my head . . . mostly at night! I hope to really sit down and write a good one soon. Perhaps Noah's birth story. In the meantime bullets will have to do.

Things I'm learning as a mother of three children who are 3 and under . . .

  • It does no good for me to get upset/emotional. Remaining calm when one is misbehaving or whining or crying is much more helpful. It's not always easy and some days I'm better at it than others.
  • It's hard when your 3-yr-old who shouldn't be napping does nap. Whew. I'm tired. Got up with her 4+ times last night.
  • You have to clean and cook in 5 minute segments because that's all you'll have.
  • It does no good to soothe yourself with a box of natural oreos . . . you'll just be annoyed at your fat and out-of-shape self later. (Thanks Weight Watchers).
  • It is almost comical how long it takes me just to get the kids ready to go outside to swing. I almost wish I had a witness! :)
  • Mommy guilt is a daily battle for me. Am I doing the right activities for each child and their particular age? Are they getting enough social stimulation (when it's so much easier just to stay home?)? Am I parenting in the right way? Do they pick up when I'm just annoyed that there are so many needs to be met?
These are the sweet days, however. I'm doing my best to enjoy things . . . even the hard moments. This poem is always on my mind . . .

Babies Don’t Keep
by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

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.

So . . . I'm going to do just that. Now, which baby do I choose to rock is the question?! :)

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

That's a great poem! And so true.
The only time you should feel guilty as a mother is if you neglect, abuse, or scream at your children. I think yours are definitely well cared for and getting enough stimulation and interaction. You don't have to be a perfect parent. There isn't such a thing. Children are remarkably resilient. They turn out much better than we parents deserve.

Love, Mom