Babies Don’t Keep
// April 30th, 2010 // No Comments » // Children and Babies, Life in General
A Nix9to5 reader’s Facebook status about cuddling her baby instead of working and paying bills reminded me of a poem a friend shared with me when I first had the Bear and couldn’t seem to accomplish anything as far as housework went:
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, rock-a-bye, Lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek-peek-a-boo).
The shopping is not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there is a hullabaloo.
But I’m playing “Kanga” and this is my “Roo.”
Look! Aren’t his eyes the most wonderful hue?
(lullaby, rock-a-bye, 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.
–Ruth Hulburt Hamilton, 1958
When my friend first shared this poem, I cried. I figured it was postpartum hormones, but since I just cried again while reading that last stanza, I guess it’s not.
My house is still a mess, but I feel less guilty about it.











