A year ago, I could barely zip up this sweatshirt.
A year ago, John nearly died.
A year ago we had an eight-week-old baby:
This week I need perspective. Time is passing me by. I'm vastly unaware of so many of the blessings in my life … mostly? Because I'm choosing to ignore them right now. All I can focus on is how tired and overextended I am, how the grass must be greener somewhere else. And frankly? Right here and now isn't so bad. I have a husband who loves me desperately, who stands by me when he has every excuse to bail out, and who is still living. Every day I wake up to the sweetest face I've ever known; I have been witness to this little life growing and leaping forward every day. I have been allowed the luxury of taking control of my body back, of having energy and the physical ability to do things that I deign to do such as run five miles or dogpile in a group of crazy high school students. I can even get pregnant again when we feel like it.
What on earth am I complaining about?
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,
Lullaby, rockabye, 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 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 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.
-Ruth Hulbert Hamilton