When I’m down on myself about the long grass in the yard or the laundry that needs folding or the easy but non-nutritious dinner I fed the kids my mom sends me a poem. I was reminded of it today when theunexpectedtrip put up this post about a random day in her life. She was unwashed and rumpled, racing around with her son trying to get errands done. She was struggling to meet her goals of feeding him (and herself) healthy and nutritious food and was down on herself about making “easy” choices. She was fielding judgement from strangers about her choices and battling to have some adult time with a toddler in tow. And then she unexpectedly found herself in a blissful moment, sitting at a sidewalk cafe eating pizza with her baby boy on a blustery afternoon. The world stopped, the inner dialogue stopped, and she was content and grateful in that moment. I identify with that.
We’re so hard on ourselves. We try so hard and give so much but it never seems like enough. I’m going to try to remember her story and work for moments like that. I want to collect those moments and hold them up as a measure of my success as a mother. I want to measure myself by that standard rather than by how clean my house is, or how fancy my cookies are or how put together I look. Because truly, in the end, my kids won’t remember if the dishes were done or if the grass was mowed or if my hair was brushed. They’ll remember the day at the sidewalk cafe. They’ll remember the quiet moments in the rocking chair. They’ll remember the time spent. And after all, babies don’t keep.
Babies Don’t Keep
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.
Hope is something you pee on 
Thank you, friend, for writing this. I’m so happy to hear my post resonated with you and inspired you to write this! It’s cliche, this mother’s guilt, but it is so, so real, and terribly inhibiting. I just want to soak up every ounce of his littleness but then I’ll find myself elbow-deep in dishes instead. These years will never come again, and we will have multiple years to keep house excellently, and attend to our looks excellently, and fulfill our adult needs….I try to find some balance, but more and more, I am letting things go. I tell myself, If all he eats for lunch today is pizza, then so what? Yesterday he had peas, spinach, beans, pasta, and oranges. The healthy days will come. The house will feel clean again. Last night, I had a fish and spinach dinner planned, but we were having so much fun together that I decided coldcuts and corn would do. That gave us more time for hilarious bubble-bath and a few minutes of watching a train documentary together and making some music with Dada. I left this morning with dishes in the sink and my bed unmade and laundry on the floor, but I spent plenty of time hugging him, joking around with him, singing with him. It’s such a mind-shift, when you’ve spent so many decades just taking care of business in your own time, in your own way. I love the poem you posted, and the painting is just gorgeous and perfect. I want to get a print for my wall! xoxo
Thanks for the comment! You inspired me to take the boys to park instead of cooking dinner (we had chicken nuggets and peas instead of vegetable lasagna) and we spent a wonderful afternoon/evening chasing falling leaves and playing “bass teat bow” (Basketball). It was wonderful. Thank you.
well, wow—tearing up here. the power of blogging! spreading goodness! love it. xo
❤
I really, really needed this reminder today. I get so caught up in getting everything organized and done around the house that sometimes it means I ignore B when she asks me to read to her and ask her to read to herself. Why? So I can finish the dishes or make dinner? She doesn’t care about dishes and she’d rather eat something simple anyway. I feel tons of guilt already about being at work during the day or ever taking time for myself, too. Anyway, sometimes we just need (and so do our babies) those extra snuggles and everything else can wait.
I’m being incoherent. Thanks for sharing this.
Thanks for the comment. And you’re not incoherent – or if you are we’re incoherent in the same way! You’re doing a good job, mama.