Of Cobwebs and Cuddle Times

One fairly big transition in my life over the past two years has been the change from a working woman to a stay-at-home mom. There are lots of layers to this change, most of them centering around questions of significance that flows in two directions. There is a segment of my life that believes that staying at home is one of the highest callings for a woman and, thus, women who choose to work while having kids are somehow less. However, there is the competing part of me that has a hard time believing in this high calling when there are Cheerios and blackened bits of banana all over the kitchen floor, a tower of dishes on the counter, and an ever-growing active volcano of laundry. At times it was much more fulfilling to be working as an English teacher to refugees than it has been to chase a baby around the house. Both sides have their chains. Both, at core, are based on myself. You can expect to read more about this.

Having said all of this, I do think it is a priceless gift to be able to stay home with your baby. The responsibility of keeping up a house and investing in our little Eden seems an impossible task most days (and I keep wondering how it will be with TWO little beauties). But our time is short. Just one little year--12 months, one by one--and they are suddenly toddlers and starting to look like little girls and boys, no longer babies. They are getting teeth and saying "no" and then wanting to know "why". And you find yourself looking at them and finding it hard to remember how they used to fit in one arm. And you know that it won't be long... not long at all... before they will be waving that once-chubby arm in a long goodbye.

It is for this reason that this particular poem struck me recently and I can't seem to read it out loud without tearing up a bit.

The cleaning and scrubbing
will wait 'til 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.
- Author Unknown