I start back to my day job in one week. That’s one week left to hug and snuggle my baby all day long.
It’s actually not that dramatic. I’m starting out on a two-day schedule and eventually going to a three-day schedule. I’ll still be home for the majority of the week. But, going back to work is a big deal to me, because it means major routine changes.
I’m a morning person. No-doubt-about-it, I get more done in the morning than I do the rest of the day combined. Morning is when I do dishes and laundry. If we have time, I even tidy-up and sometimes squeeze in a vacuum run before we leave for the bus stop. When I’m home, I have all morning to be productive, blog, clean, work on projects, etc. By lunchtime, I’m tired and it’s Raegan’s naptime, so I nap, too. Then I’m happy, rested, and prepared for to take care of the rest of the family when they get home.
That’s going to change.
I have a long commute to work, especially when there is traffic– I feel like it eats away my hours. My work day ends at 5 pm, but that’s just the beginning of my trip home. I have to pick-up Raegan at daycare — feed her (still breastfeeding) — drive — pick-up Landon at my grandparents — I end up talking to my grandmother while Landon finishes what he’s doing — drive — bring everyone and everything into the house (honestly, stuff gets left in the car every day). By then, it’s time to put them to bed! Homework gets pushed aside until morning. We woof down supper and I’m lucky if I get the dishes washed. After the rushed bedtime routines, I’m exhausted and usually put on a movie or read a book… then I fall asleep faster than the kids!
So what get’s forgotten when we’re rushing around like maniacs all evening? It’s the cleaning. My “productive” morning time is spent making up for the night before. But, I can’t live in a cluttered house. It stresses me out and I can’t be a good wife or mother if I’m stressed. Home is a haven, where we relax. I can relax in my home right now. Now — while I’m not working. That’s why I’m dreading going back to work.
So, this last week before I go back and the week or two after that, I won’t be writing as much. I’m doing a little “spring cleaning” to get myself a little ahead, because soon I will start to fall behind. You might say, cleaning doesn’t take all day… and it doesn’t. But I’m also going to spend extra time rocking my baby, because soon she won’t want to be rocked.
This poem has played over-and-over again in my mind since Raegan was born. Her tiny fingers and tiny toes just make Landon’s look so much bigger, more grown-up. The seven years since his birth have gone by so quickly, so I’m holding on a little more tightly to the next seven years. And while I still can, I’m going to hold them in my rocking chair.
Song for a Fifth Child
by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
Mother, oh 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 shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby 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?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For 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.