Getting "Nothing" Done

So there are these days — usually and almost every day where I'm lucky to take a shower, unload the dishwasher, cook a meal or tidy up. Welcome to my new life. Life with a baby. I wouldn't trade my dirty house for anything though. I'm training myself and having to redirect my brain. Often times I think, oh my goodness, I'm getting "nothing" done, but then I remember I'm doing the most important thing — holding my baby. Just in these short six week with Valor, I've seen how fast he has already grown and changed. And in maybe a year or so, Valor isn't going to want these constant snuggles with mama. Things will be different. My baby boy will grow up and want to play in the mud. Which, I am excited for that stage too - each is special in its own way. But right now I'm reminding myself I am getting lots done — I'm accomplishing the most important thing. I'm bonding with my baby. I'm loving my baby. I'm snuggling my baby. I'm savoring his baby squeaks, snorts and clean baby scent. I'm taking a mental picture of his tiny features, the way he looks at me with heavy eyes and precious eyelashes. I hold him tight as he naps and his tiny pucker slowly phantom nurses. So I guess in the end, it depends how you define "nothing."

"Babies Don’t Keep"

Author: 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.