Monday, January 16, 2012

Housewife Poem


I have read this poem a few times in various places over the years - but thought I'd copy it here so that I would remember it.  

 Some houses try to hide the fact that children shelter there. 
Ours boast of it quite openly, the signs are everywhere. 
For smears are on the windows, little smudges on the door, 
I should apologize for toys strewn across the floor. 
But, I sat down with the children, we played and laughed and read, 
So, if the doorbell doesn't shine, their eyes will shine instead. 
For when at times, I'm forced to choose the one job or the other, 
I want to be a housewife, but first I'll be a mother.

3 comments:

  1. And a fine and loving one you are.

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  2. I really love this poem. I struggle with the balance between wanting our home to maintain some sense of organization, cleanliness, and tidiness, while still giving my children room to be kids. They love to create everything from drawings to tents made of spare boxes! It starts to eat at me when everything is a disaster, so I've been working on habits like morning chores - having the kids help me gather the trash, empty the dishwasher, make beds, and get dressed all before breakfast. I'm finding it easier to keep the house from looking like a tornado struck when we start the day on a nice, tidy note.

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