It is now eight months and some change as I get around to finishing this post. For Oliver's photo at eight months, I will incorporate our Easter post by reference herein in its entirety. But, I will keep the rambling thought below that I started writing at the end of the day he turned eight months...
"At eight months, I find myself more and more often thinking that I need to savor certain things because we won't be able to do them much longer. Rocking Oliver to sleep before bed is one example. His usual bed routine wraps up around 9:00 pm. Most nights he nurses and/or gets a bottle and then falls asleep in Joe or my arms. Depending on how tired he is, it can take anywhere between 5-25 minutes for him to fall asleep. But, I have had a few nights now where it has taken me about an hour to put him in his crib--not because he didn't fall asleep, but because I just wanted to hold him close a little longer. He is growing into a little boy so fast, and I know he will be too big to put him to bed this way very soon. I just want to enjoy him being my baby for a little longer."
Just a little longer.
Your post reminded me of this poem and wanted to share.
ReplyDeleteMother, 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, lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due,
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peek-a-boo.
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew,
And out in the year there's a hullabaloo
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren't his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullaby, rockaby lullaby loo.
The cleaning and scrubbing can wait til tomorrow
But children grow up as I've learning to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.
---Ruth Hulbert Hamilton