Song For A Fifth Child

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,

Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye 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 his eyes the most wonderful hue?

Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.

Ruth Hulbert Hamilton

A friend sent this poem to me when I was pregnant with Lincoln.  Although I have to say its a bit dated -- I definitely don't 'hang out the washing' and I don't even get the whole 'poison the moth' -- I do love the message behind the poem.  

(On a side note, "hullabaloo" is a general term for a performance, celebration or other noisy even.  And here I thought it was just a game by Cranium)

So, last week Bethany and I were sitting out enjoying a beautiful sunny day when the girls asked if I could get the jumpy-thingy out for them.  

I very nicely explained, "that thing weighs 100 lbs", there is NO way I could drag it myself, and that maybe when Daddy gets home he can drag it from the storage room to the yard.

(which, btw, is approximately 1 mile)

....to which my eldest daughter replied, "Mom, shouldn't we at least have a chance to bring it up by ourselves?  I mean, aren't we always supposed to try?"

And how can you argue with that?

Video #1 (Video #2 below)

(scroll down and pause music before viewing)

As you can see, they managed to drag that Bouncy House allllllll the way from the storage room to the backyard, set it up and jump in it all afternoon.  I have to say, I was way impressed.  

And I might have learned a small lesson in the process.