The following poem was sent to me by a friend after I had made a joke about our house being messy. I used to be somewhat of a "neat freak" in B.C. times (before children)... though my mom might disagree (however, this comes form a woman whose floors you can eat off of). Now, our living room boast a look that resembles what it might look like if a Toy Bomb went off in the room... oh well, you do what you can.
Excuse this House
Author: Unknown
Author: Unknown
Some houses try to hide the fact that children shelter there,
ours boasts it quite openly, the signs are EVERYWHERE.
For smears are on the windows, little smudges are 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 the other;
I'd like to cook and clean and scrub, but first I'll be a mother.
ours boasts it quite openly, the signs are EVERYWHERE.
For smears are on the windows, little smudges are 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 the other;
I'd like to cook and clean and scrub, but first I'll be a mother.
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