Babies Don't Keep...

I was chatting with Francis, my nurse, today, about house cleaning. I was saying that I used to think I had to do everything every week, but then I realized in the big scheme of things, it doesn't really matter if you dust a shelf that nobody really sees. I told her that when I feel that I should be doing something other than watching J play, I often bring to mine the lines of a poem that I remember Mom had hanging in our house when I was little. I remember that it was cross-stitched, and I remember that it was talking about how you should forget about doing all your housework, because it will always be there, but your baby will not always be a baby. So today, I googled the poem, and here it is. I never saw the poem in its entirety before, I thought it was very cute. So I wanted to post it on my blog. Also, I have another word to add:
13. Knee--he said it clear as day today, multiple times!

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.

- Ruth Hulbert Hamilton