Poems I Live By

Come In

Come in, but don't expect to find
all the dishes done;
all floors a shine
Observe the crumpled rug,
the toys galore,
the smudgy fingerprinted door.
The little ones we shelter here
don't thrive on spotless atmosphere.
They're more inclined
to disarray and carefree,
even messy, play
Their needs are great,
their patience small.
All day I'm at their beck and call -
it's "Mommy come!
Mommy see!"
Wiggly worms and
red scraped knees,
painted pictures,
blocks piled high.
My floors unshined,
the days go by.
Some future day
they'll flee this nest
and I at last will have a rest.
But for now,
which matters more?
A happy child
or a polished floor?

- Author Unknown

Excuse the House

Some houses try to hide the fact
that children shelter there;
ours boasts of it quite openly,
the signs are everywhere.
For smears are on the windows,
little smudges on the doors;
I should apologize, I guess,
for toys strewn on the floor.
but I sat down with the children
and we played and
laughed and read;
and if the doorbell doesn't shine,
their eyes will shine instead.
For when at times
I'm forced to choose
the one job or another;
I'd like to cook and
clean and scrub,
but first I'll be a MOTHER.

- Author Unknown