He’s Still My Baby

There was a time, when I first became a mother, that I felt I had to be superwoman. I was determined to do everything, and do it perfectly. It wasnt long before I gave up, and I certianly dont miss that time.

Ive never had a really tidy, really clean house. I tend to keep it in just respectable condition. Relatively tidy, mostly clean, a few jobs here and there to do. I cannot remember it ever being completely in tip-top condition, it just never gets there. Sometimes I feel a little sad or frustrated at this, that what I am aiming for when I do housework is never completely achieved, but most of the time I feel OK about it. Its comfortable, it looks alright, theres nothing unsafe or too germy.

I found this poem recently in a local tots magazine, and I plan to frame it and display it somewhere suitable to remind myself when I am despairing over the never ending washing pile, that there are much more important things in life:


I hope my children look back on today,

And see a parent who had time to play,

Children grow up while you’re not looking,

There’ll be years ahead for cleaning and cooking,

So quiet now, cobwebs, dust go to sleep,

I’m rocking my baby, and babies dont keep.



My child may now be 3, but he is still my baby, and that means that spending time with him is more important than keeping a spotless house. So I try not to feel too guilty that I havent hoovered this week, or that I cant really be bothered putting the toys away this time, or that kitchen wall I started painting last month still isn’t finished.

Babies dont keep. Nor do toddlers. Neither do teenagers for that matter. In fact when J is 30, he will still be my baby.

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6 Responses to He’s Still My Baby

  1. Maxabella says:

    Brilliant. I needed to hear this. x

    I found you via Blow Your Blog Horn!

  2. Hannah says:

    I can really relate to your post. I have this poem on my kitchen wall:

    I Took His Hand and Followed
    Mrs. Roy L. Peifer

    My dishes went unwashed today,

    I didn’t make the bed,

    I took his hand and followed

    Where his eager footsteps led.

    Oh yes, we went adventuring,

    My little son and I…

    Exploring all the great outdoors

    Beneath the summer sky

    We waded in a crystal stream,

    We wandered through a wood…

    My kitchen wasn’t swept today

    But life was gay and good.

    We found a cool, sun-dappled glade

    And now my small son knows

    How Mother Bunny hides her nest,

    Where jack-in-the-pulpit grows.

    We watched a robin feed her young,

    We climbed a sunlit hill…

    Saw cloud-sheep scamper through the sky,

    We plucked a daffodil.

    That my house was neglected,

    That I didn’t brush the stairs,

    In twenty years, no one on earth

    Will know, or even care.

    But that I’ve helped my little boy

    To noble manhood grow,

    In twenty years, the whole wide world

    May look and see and know.

  3. I love that poem, but sometimes it’s good to re-read it as a reminder. Enjoy your little one. I’m going to paint with mine this morning and ignore the housework!

  4. Kristi says:

    i love that poem hannah shared.

    they are only small for such a short time, and we want to do it all don’t we, us mamas. it is better when we realize we really can’t do it all, so it best to do what is most important.

    lovely post.

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