Babies don't keep!

     My babies are growing up and its sending me into teary eyed mess. In a month or so I will have a 7, 3 and 1 year old. That is not allowed. Harmony may or may not be our last baby and the thought alone is enough to scare the poo right out of me. No more nursing, tiny little diapers, the smell of a brand new baby, first smiles and all the rest of the exciting things that come with a baby.  I'm not ready to pack away all the baby things as my baby is quickly approaching toddler hood and leaving baby hood behind her.

    My niece who is ever so far away in England (and never even met Harmony) posted the poem below on my Face book wall today.  It's a great reminder to cherish the days we have with our little ones instead of constantly worrying about the mundane chores because at the end of my life I will never say I wish I cleaned my house more but I can bet I will say I wish I cuddled my babies more.  So if you stop by and my house is in complete chaos we are too busy making memories to clean.

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, 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 his eyes the most wonderful hue? Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby 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. ~ Ruth Hulbert Hamilton