I was taking a break from the incessant organizing/cleaning when I saw an update on one of the blogs I subscribe to. Go to Passionate Homemaking to read Lindsay's thoughts about the poem below:
Cleaning and scrubbing will 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. Babies don't keep.
by Ruth Hamilton
This poem has me so wistful! I agree wholeheartedly with the sentiment, but I long for a time when I can indulge in that type of thing again. Because, right now, it's impossible. If I don't do it, it won't get done. And my determination is waning. For the past few days, I've been dragging my feet in the worst way. I never do nothing, but it's precious little that does get done. I'm very discouraged at having to do it all alone when I have no clue, no confidence in myself if I'm doing things right. After all, I've never done this type of thing before: gotten a house ready to put on the market. What does one do? And how? I'm weary. I desperately try to keep from a meltdown, making myself take breaks and trying to spend a little time outside and giving attention to Baby Boy every day, but this huge responsibility is wearing on me. Anyway, I'm posting this poem for a little inspiration. A reminder that the familiar, unhurried bliss of quiet home life will eventually come around again. A time when my biggest worry will be figuring out how to work story time around nap time and the occasional chore. But for now, I'll continue to work and trust.
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