thoughts on a fourth child

I was sitting on the couch yesterday, blissfully awestruck by sweet Nadya's sweet face (I'm so in love with her) and had a very guilty feeling come over me about all the other things I should be doing. I should be folding laundry. I should be cooking dinner. Actually, what was I going to cook for dinner since I should have gone to the store earlier in the day? The dust on the TV stand is about an inch thick. The dog needs a bath. But... I can't pull myself away from this little person who has entered my life and grabbed my heart.

Not that this hasn't happened before. It's happened three other times. This little creature that can't do a single thing for itself shows up and has the ability to make me go all goo-goo and forget about the rest of the world... for a few months at least.

I know the day will come when she no longer gazes wide-eyed with wonderment at me. She'll stop grinning from ear to ear whenever I show up in her field of vision. She'll eventually look to something other than me for nourishment. She'll insist on holding that spoon herself.

I know this to be oh, so true because I have three other babies that grew up too fast. The day will come when she gets her hand swatted for the first time and I'll get teary-eyed because it will mark the start of the end of her innocence.

So for right now, I'm okay with letting the house be a bit messy, the meals I cook being subpar and rummaging through baskets of washed but not folded, wrinkly laundry for something to wear. I'm going to sit for awhile and enjoy being in love. All the stuff I should do will still be there waiting the day she jumps off my lap and walks away...



"Poem for a New Baby"
by Ruth Hamilton

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, 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 her eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullaby, rock-a-bye, lullaby loo.

Cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow,
For babies 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.