Saturday, November 29, 2008


Author: Unknown

"Some houses try to hide* the fact
That children shelter there;
Ours boasts of it quite openly,
The signs are everywhere.
For smears are on the windows,
Little smudges on the doors;
I should apologize, I guess,
For toys strewn on the floor.
But I sat down with the children
And we played and laughed and read;
And if the doorbell doesn't shine,
Their eyes will shine instead.
For when at times I'm forced to choose
The one job or the other;
I'd like to cook and clean and scrub,
But first I'll be a mother."

The bad part is when I don't do the possible cleaning inferred in the above poem, but also don't really tend to the children, either....

*my sister, Kristy, doesn't try to hide her children's messes--she's actually planning on putting up a vinyl board sign in her house that says "No, this house is not under contstruction. Children live here." Ha ha ha ha!

1 comment:

Stacy said...

I really love this poem. It's such a good reminder about what's most important. Problem is I'm such a grump when my house is a disaster.