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!
Saturday, November 29, 2008
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1 comment:
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.
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