My baby is growing up. 6 months old already.
Today, we put her in her high chair for the first time. She sat up there and “talked” a little – and smiled a lot.
And there she was. Big as big. Her eyes sparkling, her gummy smile charming us, her hands patting excitedly on the table.
My heart did a little pitter-patter when I saw that, and then I looked over at her big sister – gangly and talkative and gregarious. And a little lump welled up in my throat. I just wanted to stop the clock right there, to hold on tight to this chaotic beauty, to the wonder of this moment.
Oh God, let me make the most of this. Don’t let them grow up too fast.
The below poem (by Ruth Hulbert Hamilton) has been all around the Internet and back again a million times, but I keep coming back to it. It speaks to me, calms me, reminds me that these “unproductive” days when “nothing” gets done…these are the days that matter most of all.
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 her 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.
Stay tuned for musings, product reviews, and giveaways specifically related to babies in the 6-12M age range. Won’t you join me?