The Right Choice

I have a choice right now. A babysitter is here playing with the older children. The baby’s tummy is full, and he is content. I have loads of laundry I should be doing. We have company coming this weekend, and the floor is littered with crumbs, the counters caked with stickiness. There’s plenty of cleaning waiting to be done. I feel like I need to use this time to do something that will bear fruit you can see – clean clothes, counters, maybe even a profound blog post.

But what I want to do is tuck my baby into a carrier and head into the sunshine and take a slow walk. It’s what I probably need, too, because this morning did not start well. (That may be the understatement of the year.) It was total chaos as I tried to get through some reading and narrating with Madeline, and I morphed into a yelling mommy, snapping at my 2-year-old and 4-year-old, leaving them both in tears. Madeline chuckled (she’s a good sport), but then she said I looked like a gorilla when I was mad.

I don’t want to look like a gorilla. I want to look like a peaceful, content, and mindful mom. I want to act like one, too.

Sleep deprivation can be soul-crushing, not only for me but for my children, too, especially when my behavior reflects my exhaustion. I can’t control how much I sleep right now, but I can take advantage of the few free moments I have to reclaim serenity (if only on the interior) and to not feel like I have to be productive and do something but instead to just quiet myself, beg for God’s mercy and graces, and soak up this sweet, little baby boy who is growing and changing far too quickly for his mama’s liking.

After I gave birth to Rachel (my second child), my mother-in-law dropped a poem called “Song for a Fifth Child” in the mail for me. I posted it on my blog back in 2007 (2007? I can’t believe I’ve been at this blogging thing for that long), and I’m going to post it again as a reminder not only that babies don’t keep but that I won’t always be this needed. I joked with a friend once that I feel like a movie star sometimes because I have a constant entourage in my presence, and everyone wants to sleep with me. Rae and Mary Elizabeth are having a hard time now that I’m sleeping with the baby and can’t safely have them sneak in the bed with me in the middle of the night.

I’m grateful for these precious children, but it can be exhausting, emotionally taxing, and stressful to have everyone pining for my attention, love, and care, especially when everyone needs something from me at the same time. Yet, I can’t imagine how lonely and quiet it will be when no one is calling for Mommy or asking for “mama’s milk” or saying, “Watch this, Mommy!”

Just recently I noticed the finger smudges on my walls are getting higher. One day they won’t be there at all, and that makes me far more sad than relieved.

I’ve made my choice. As soon as I click “Publish,” I’m cleaning just a few dishes (I can’t help myself), and then I’m headed outside to walk, to bask in the sun, and to enjoy this view:

“Song for a Fifth Child (The Value of Values) “
by Ruth Hulbert Hamilton

Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth!
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
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, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Lullabye, rockabye, lullaby loo).
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.”
(Lullabye, rockabye, lullaby loo).

The 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,
And babies don’t keep.*

*And neither do toddlers, preschoolers, or any of our kids.