Lately my baby girl has decided that the only thing that will calm her is for me to hold her while I pace the floors in our house for hours on end. I have a sling, but she prefers my arms. I suppose I can’t blame her, but as I wander from room to room, I can’t help but notice all the things there are to do. There are books to be organized, toys to be sorted and things to be put away. As my feet wander, so does my mind. I start thinking of phone calls to make, e-mails to send and work to do. But today I read this little poem and I am going to remember it when I start thinking of everything on my to-do list:
Cleaning and scrubbing can wait for tomorrow,
For babies grow up, I’ve learned, to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs.
Dust, go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby, and babies don’t keep.