Quarterly Report

We will be a quarter of the way through the year tonight (give or take) and I have completed ONE New Year's Resolution. Yup. ONE.

Betcha' can't guess which one.

If you would like to hear me discuss New Year's, thoughts on life, goals, etc, etc AND you have twelve minutes to waste, today is your lucky day!

Half as long as an episode of The Office on Hulu and only one-sixteenth as funny. Maybe not even funny at all, but you get a glimpse into what I'm thinking when I talk to myself. That's gotta be kind of funny. Maybe.

***Disclaimer*** The video which you are about to see is a little reminiscent of the Blair Witch Project. Meaning that my web cam had obvious difficulty tracking fast movement say like turning my head or even blinking. And I majored in Nursing not Communications. Be nice.

I live to serve.

My sister asked for controversy and Holly asked for a picture of my gallery. Your wishes are my commands.

For Jess-

Can someone please (for the love!!!) explain to me why women like to re-hash the story of their labors over, and over, and over, and over....?

It was three years ago (maybe even longer)!! Surely, you've had something to talk about since then? No one talks about the night they conceived. Make for much more interesting gossip if they would.

Contrary to popular belief, I do not hate pregnant people. Errr.... all of them. I don't hate breast feeding. I especially don't hate nap time. But FOR THE LOVE!!!! Can we please talk about something else at Park Days? We are grown ups. Grown ups do grown up things (don't we?) Do you read? Craft? Cook? Pick your butt? I don't care! The mommy talk has to stop. It is becoming intellectually de-stimulating and occasionally painful to attend. And I wouldn't (trust me), except my kid loves it so much.

From now on I would like to institute new rules. I do not want to hear about your labor story unless in falls in one of the following categories...

a) It was of more than two babies.
b) It was in a foreign country.
c) It was in a bathtub.
d) It was of my child.
e) I ask you directly to tell me about the night your child was born. And it has to be in those words. If I ask how many kids you have you don't need to expound on their entrance into the world.

If it was all of the above, you should have been featured on TLC's A Baby Story. I might of watched that one. Maybe. Probably not. I don't have tv. And I hate that show.

Otherwise, I'm really, really not interested in how long you pushed, when they started Pitocin, how embarrassed you are of the number of people who saw you nekid, etc. That is what your mother and your blog is for. They care. I don't.

From now on, please stick to the rules so that going to the park can be a pleasant experience for all of us.

Anyone else have something they'd like me to pontificate?

For Holly-

New pictures in old frames in the hallway.

More lessons on Jelly Belly's.

It is okay to combine all the orange ones and the green ones. Not okay to combine the red ones. If you're colorblind, I'd avoid them all together.

And Jelly Belly's are best observed in natural light, NOT artificial light.

Media Enhanced Friday Random

For this week's Random on Friday post-

Events That Have Occurred Throughout the Week,
But Were Not Interesting Enough to Warrant Their Own Post.

I embroider innards for my very favorite people.


In response to yesterday's Price is Right reference, my husband's only comment was, "The Price is Wrong. Bitch."



Everyone should have a husband who can quote Happy Gilmore in his sleep.

I hung the pictures of our most recent photo shoot. It made me miss our traitors like crazy.


Rainbow themed lunches are... well, colorful.


Started, finished, and felted Scrunch's Easter bag.


I had one good hair day this entire week, so I took a picture of it. Now I realize I should have spent the time wiping down the mirror.


My GAS quotient is running a little low, thankfully the most difficult decision I have been faced with during the last twelve hours is, "Should I eat my Snickers bar before or after I wash the diapers?"

Had a date on Tuesday night. Husband was there. Quantum of Solace fell in the cart when I sent him to Costco. I can't decide on a clip/photo. So, just do your part to stimulate the economy and get yourself a copy.

Consolation Prize

I should never go on The Price is Right. (Did you hear Bob Barker came back?) I would really, really suck at that game.

Behind door number one we have a positive pregnancy test, gorgeous knit cotton cashmere maternity sweater complete with coordinating Baby Legs out of irresistible baby cashmere.

Behind door number two we have a negative pregnancy test, colorful socks. Or this. Or this one. Or all three. And still the Baby Legs.

Apparently I chose door number two and have done so four years running. No one can say we haven't given it our best effort. Can't say I'm surprised. No one looks good in a maternity sweater and my subconscious knows that. I will, however, still purchase the yarn for the baby legs because sometime there will be another baby. My babies just take longer than nine months to get here.

Do not underestimate the power of knitting and retail therapy, it can make for a very soothing consolation prize.

A dream and a wish.

A few days ago, I ran into an acquaintance I had not seen for several months. She commented on how big my Scrunch was getting and then asked, "Are her parent's tall?" I winced ever so slightly and responded, "No. They are average height." I was oh so proud of myself for not smarting off. Two days later I have plenty of comebacks, believe me. (I will reserve them for use at a later date and include "None ya'! and "go to H-town!")

I've tried to think about what really bothered me about the question. I have determined that it had more to do with the person who asked it, than the question itself. Between John and I we will often comment on how much Scrunch looks like her birth mother. Every once in a while I will catch a glimpse of what I imagine her birth father to look like as well. I've been told he looks a lot like my own husband. It's not a secret around here. Her name is spoken frequently. We wonder aloud about her. She is not a threat to me. I can without any bit of hurt, or fear, or discomfort acknowledge that Scrunch's button nose looks like it was peeled directly off her birthmommy's face and positioned cutely on hers.

When I look at my Scrunch, I don't see myself and I am glad for it. When I look at her face I am reminded of every blessing I have been given. I dreamt of a little girl with lots of curly hair. And that's exactly what I got.

A Tale of Woe

For two days I have weakly attempted to hold off the fatigue that comes with flu symptoms. I REFUSE to be sick. I have a teething baby. One sickie per family makes the quota. Each night I have crashed on the couch only within minutes of Scrunch going to bed. This is where my tale begins.

While cuddling and reading stories in the tent before bed, I fell asleep on the floor of the tent. I woke up to the resounding smack across my cheek from Scrunch. We have been working on "soft on mommy's face". It seems though, she may have been coming to my rescue. In the ten minutes that I lay there I was brutally attacked by a spider or other biting insect. Dime sized welts covered my face and arms. Within a few minutes, the allergic response including rash and fever and uncontrollable itching began. Normally one would reach for the bottle of Tylenol and diphenhydramine (generic for Benadryl) but I am in the category of people that don't take OTC medications. Seriously. I am allergic to IBU profen. It was too early/late for me to call my homeopathic friend for a remedy, so I lay on the bed with my arms crossed trying not to scratch and listening to Scrunch's breathing, ALL NIGHT LONG. (At what age do you stop listening for your child's breathing during the night?) This morning, the headache set in. Is it more flu symptoms or lack of sleep?

Scrunch had a restless night as well. She is still asleep as I type this, and hopefully will remain so until I can gather the strength and energy to haul myself off the couch.

Oh, and husband was called in for jury duty. Figures.

Does it sound like I'm complaining? I am. I am very aware that things could be much, much worse. Trust me. All TOO aware. But you've got to remember....I am a pampered, yuppy, housewife. This IS as bad as it gets on a Tuesday.

I see pajamas, Jell-o, Sing-a-long Songs, and knitting in my immediate future. Rough life.

Weekly Service Announcement

It seems that Monday is always someone's laundry, bathroom scrubbing, mopping, or just plain get back to work day. On what seems like the longest day of the week for me, I like to have something in the background playing. My Pandora stations are a little eclectic and cover a wide range of genres.

I think we can all agree that this has a little something for everyone. Even if it is just putting off vacuuming the curtains for another six minutes.

Random Life Lesson

If you combine all the colors together you get brown. Brown is the color of poop. You should not pop a whole handful of Jelly Belly's into your mouth at once unless you like the taste of dog poop.

Just thought you should know.

A few of my favorite things.

Purple.
Handknits.
Scrunch.
Tortilla roll ups.

Mostly Scrunch in purple handknits.

Rapidly morphing into another "mommy" blog.

Who'd of thought?

What takes some women five minutes in the back seat of the car or their husband merely sneezing in the same room as them, takes others months of paperwork, charting, fingerprinting, and a documented pain in the ass. Therefore, even though I once proudly proclaimed that I would avoid becoming a lame mommy blog documenting events that only myself, Grami, and possibly an aunt or two cares about, I feel my resolve slipping. I feel that I have earned the right to tell my lame cutsie kid stories, and you have to put up or shut up.

I am completely, entirely, and wholeheartedly sucked in to this kid's world. We spend the days hanging out in the tent playing in pom poms, gathering new art supplies at the Dollar Store, and bouncing a pink dodge ball at the park.

It is a good place to be.

Scheming, Kniving Hussy

And proud of it!

My latest plot involves sleeping with the Easter Bunny so I can find this in my Easter basket. (If you're too lazy to at least acknowledge the effort I've made in creating this link, I will just tell you. It's the most beautiful quilt ever!)

I think my chances are pretty good since the little Leprechaun fairy left him the pot of gold and new toys. Although, I call the helicopter the other woman.


Doesn't he look so pleased with himself? He won't even see it coming.

He can keep his fake gold. I am after all a woman with ulterior motives. I've got Easter coming up with Mother's Day right behind it. Wwuahaha!

Happy St. Patricks Day!

My Service to Humanity

I thought I would do something nice for someone today, but it's raining which is not nice for me. What can I do without leaving my house? And then in a stroke of genius (for the second day in a row) it came to me. I will share my meal plan for the week with you complete with links. Forget the fact that it was something I had to do anyway. Now I get a check mark next to meal plan AND service. Because it's all about the check marks, right? That's how we get to heaven. (hehe)
It must be raining sarcasm.

And remember, there are two options when it comes to dinner
1) take it 2) leave it.

Monday
Pork Chops with Garden Rice

Tuesday
Pot Sticker Salad with Snap Peas
Rice

Wednesday
Bacon Wrapped Apple Chicken in Crockpot
Broccoli
Sweet Potatoes

Thursday
Asian Chicken Lettuce Wraps

Friday
Gnocchi with Pesto Sauce

Saturday
Marinated Salmon Fillets (Trader Joe's)
Rice
Salad
Bread

Sunday
Thai Red Curry Soup
Crusty Bread

A glimpse into my uneventful life on a Sunday night.

I'm knitting as fast as I can. I think the cure for repetitive motion injury is to stop the repetitive motion . I am a freakin' genius! No medical training necessary for that tidbit.

In other headline making news a rayon/viscose blend makes for the gnarliest knot to try and unravel. I finally said screw it and tossed in the towel. I thought Jedi had outgrown playing with skeins of yarn but proof positive, boys (even dogs) never grow up.

Husband is sitting on the couch next to me. He's watching Extreme Engineering. He made pancakes with fresh berries for dinner. Scrunch is asleep and has been for two hours. Jedi and Ani are waiting to get kicked off the bed.

And now you know why I don't bother to update my Facebook.

Sale Ends Soon!

This weekend their sales end and they go back to doing whatever it is Girl Scouts do. It is now safe to go grocery shopping without feeling guilty for either a) avoiding the little Leprechauns in their green vests or b) NOT avoiding them.

Damn those Girl Scouts and their cookies!

Stuff

When I get excited I either jump around making me hard to follow in conversation or I just speak in a completely run-on sentence which is almost as hard to follow. If you speak crazy, you can usually follow me. If you don't, it's high time you learned. Then you too can be bilingual.

That said, here is my random of Friday's.

- Last nights meeting was AWEsome. I don't know if it helped anyone else there, but (selfishly) it helped me lots. Every time I get to speak in a setting like that I am more and more grateful for our Birthmom and the whole process. And when you feel so grateful your heart might explode, it makes you happy. Happy is good.

- Scrunch pooped and peed in her pink potty last night. You'd have thought she crapped gold nuggets with the way we jumped and danced around. Even husband. And he is not a dancing around in excitement kind of guy. I did NOT want to start potty training (and we still really aren't) but what am I supposed to do when she says 'pot-ty' and brings me her soiled diapers?

- It is really bad when you have to stop at a gas station to use their restroom, go in, ask for the key and the chick at the counter says, "Are you sure you want to use this restroom?" No dear. I'm not sure. I actually have a deep seeeded phobia about using public restrooms, which tells you than I'm in dire straights at the moment. But I'm pretty sure I don't want to go in my pants. Thanks anyway. I carry hand sanitizer on my person at all times and I've been camping enough times to have figured out that you don't sit, just hover. Just give me the friggin' key already! She was, however, right. I might just carry Scrunch's pink potty in the trunk from now on.

- Three out of the six projects I'm knitting right now are purple.

- I'm using denial as a coping mechanism to deal with the fact that my partner in crime and frequent Brunch n' Bitch buddy is moving. It works great. Although, it is hard to ignore the fact when you're plotting the kidnapping of her favorite child. Scrunch needs her Grady.

- We're having pork chops for dinner.

- You should avoid Wal-mart at all costs. Today and always, but especially today and through-out the weekend. It's payday Friday and you know what that means. Every body and their mother including people who cannot drive carts so they should not drive period are out. Good luck and be safe. But don't say I didn't warn you.

What I want to say.

My Handsome Husband and I get to speak tonight at an Adoption Orientation meeting for LDS Family Services (the agency that we used for Scrunch's adoption.) Generally a thirty minute speaking assignment would be somewhat overwhelming to attempt to plan, but in this case WE ONLY GET 30 minutes. You want us to tell our story in a measly thirty minutes? We will see what we can do. And can I do it without crying? Not likely.

I remember going to that meeting. I met Holly at that meeting. Besides being excited about finally getting the ball rolling, I was also there to check out the other couples. There were other people like me! Normal looking ones with nice husbands, cute shoes, jobs, lives. You just want to feel normal. Especially in the LDS culture where there is such an emphasis on children and families, when you feel like you're missing out- the pain can be excruciating. You feel like you're broken. You feel ripped off. You feel punished. You feel sad. You feel desperate. You feel angry. Depressed. More anger. More sadness. You hate going to Relief Society. You refuse callings in the nursery. There is no end to the spectrum of feelings that you feel.

Besides telling our story in terms of the sequence of events I hope there is a way for me to convey what I really want to say....

This is normal. It is OK that you feel like that. It is OK that you DON'T feel like that. You are not the only one. Yup. This sucks. It's OK. We GET why you hate holidays, why you're ticked that you have to be fingerprinted (again), why you buy clothes and shoes and knit things for a baby you don't have, or why you avoid the baby aisle at Target. Waiting is the worst. Your heart will not always hurt. There will be a day when you consider yourself lucky and blessed to have your life touched by adoption. Adoption is not a cure for infertility, but it is a cure for childlessness.

Being chosen by a mother and/or father to parent their child is the greatest gift a person can give. For you. For them. For their baby. For your baby.

I can talk about birth father rights, grounds for termination, Interstate compact, attorney's fees, (multiple) Agency processes. I can give you the statistics on the mental health and resiliency of adopted children. We can discuss the varying degrees of openness with birth parents. Openness with your child.

But mostly... just know that you're not the only one. You'll find your baby, and your baby will find you. So go ahead. If it helps you cope to shop for more onesies, if you want to set up the crib and just sit in an empty room, go for it! I totally get it.

There are lots of us that GET it.

What are sisters for?

Sisters are for laying it straight. NO ONE tells you the cold hard truth like a sister. But then they are also for telling the rest of the world to shove it, if they don't like it.

This post is for my sister(s).

I think, "Bite me!" fits quite nicely eh?

Some thing's gotta give.

There are times when I get to the end of the day and wonder what I've done for the last fourteen hours that has left me entirely wiped out. Oh yeah. I kept a kid alive. MUCH harder than it sounds considering we learned how to open the front door today.

But besides that- I can either clean or craft, but not both. And if I do attempt both (like say last Saturday) I didn't shower and then proceeded to sleep through Sacrament. We're still blaming it on fast forward day. In fact anything that goes wrong or irritates for the next six weeks will be blamed on Day Light Savings.

For the remainder of this post pretend to care. Or don't. I don't have a counter or Feedjit stalker anymore so I won't even know if you ignore me. For all I know only two people read this.

I would like to fully endorse the HGTV concept of cutting out brown paper the shape of your frames, taping them on the wall, AND THEN hammering the nails. Holy crap! It works. And I have fifteen fewer holes in the wall.

I started the handmades for last week's contest.

***Spoiler alert***

It's a diaper wipes case in case you were wondering.

Oh, dishcloths. Booooooring knits. But fast. Not for the contest. The angle looks funky, but it really is square.

And bunny bean bags for Scrunch's Easter basket. It was from an idea I stole from some other poor blogger who likes to take pictures of random felt things they waste their time with and then take pictures of on the sidewalk.

Follow all that? Whatever. You don't read any of this crap unless you see pictures of Scrunch anyway.

Good Stuff

What are you in the mood for?

My mommy friends should read this. Then get a hobby.

My infertile/having a hard time with the fact that everyone except YOU is pregnant friends read this. And read the last paragraph. Read it over and over. Like I have for the last four days.

If you're feeling a little overwhelmed by all that you have/haven't done, check out this. And the comments.

If you're in the mood for a real life paper and print selection try The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. I loved this book! Words that describe it were "such a cute story". "Great read". "Feel good book of the week". Try it. You'll like it.

Now I'm going to go read Goodnight Moon for like the ten thousandth time, then see if I can decipher this.

Dad-urday!

Lets Roll!You didn't say I had to wear it on my head!


Safety Sucks!

Fine. I'm having fun. Honest.

Saturday Sampler (with pictures).

I'm doing my 'Random on Fridays' on Saturday (obviously), just to keep you on your toes. Come on kids. Keep up!

So this week...

- I received a message yesterday with the following. "Good news! Your labs are absolutely normal. Everything looks perfect." It's all relative. What she really should have said is, "Sucky news. We have absolutely no idea what's wrong with you." Where is House? But I doubt it's lupus.

-I was almost famous. Almost. If you count getting a text from my sister in a super shi-shi Malibu restaurant which read. "Pierce Brosnan is at the table next to me!!!!" Apparently he is even hotter in person. Praise be!

- I am no match for sunshine, the beach, shopping, and did I mention the beach? Long Beach, you can kiss my never-to-tan-in-this-mucky-weather hide.

-There is an Anthropologie within driving distance. I think I may be looking for a new job.

- There is also a mini Bellagio (and play park) within driving distance. Right next to Anthropolgie. Hear that Long Beach???? Kiss it.

And with that you can now return to your regularly scheduled programming. Or old reruns of 24 on Hulu (not that that's what I'll be doing today.)

Whoa, sorry about that!

Maybe I should watch the WHOLE music video before I upload crap from YOUTUBE. Let this be a lesson to you, the internet can be a scary place.

Ever look at a picture and have a song come rushing to mind?

I've got this song in my head. Wonder why?

'Xcept it's Grady's, Alena's and Scrunch's mom.

Check out our photoshoot here.

Getting personal.

Dear Mother Nature,

I would never ask this of anyone if I didn't consider them a VERY close friend. I consider anyone who has seen me naked a friend. I'm sure you have lots of friends, so allow me to jog your memory. Skinny dipping up at Fish bowls the summer of '03. Ring a bell?

Now that our friendship is renewed, I'd like to ask. Are you on Clomid too? I mean the torrential downpour, sunshine, freezing temperatures all within an hour's time???? It pretty much gave it away. I need to believe that your are hormonally deranged and not normally a crazy wench. Please understand. I NEED!!! to believe this.

Five days. You can do five days. If I'm out of line you can strike my car with lightening should the mood possess you. (That's what I would do.)

Thank you for the insight into what my Husband must be feeling. You're a crazy broad that's for sure! But I love you anyway.

Loves,
Infertile Myrtle Trying to keep it together in spite of BIZARRE California weather

Are you game?

Come on, you big chicken. Buck, buck, buck-awe. That's a chicken sound typed out. I think. And that is me calling you out. Bring your A-game baby, because we're going to have some crafting fun!

ARE YOU GAME?

The first three people to respond to this post will get something made by me! My choice. For you.This offer does have some restrictions and limitations:
1- I make no guarantees that you will like what I make!
2- What I create will be just for you.
3- It'll be done this year.
4- You have no clue what it's going to be.
5- I reserve the right to do something extremely strange.
The catch is that you must repost this on your blog and offer the same to the first 3 people who do the same on your blog. The first 3 people to do so and leave a comment telling me they did win a FAB-U-LOUS homemade gift by me! Oh, and be sure to post a picture of what you win when you get it!

Who's in?

Thank you to Angela for starting this. When she mentioned it at knitting group, I knew I was in. Hellooooo? She makes jewelry and spins. And her newest pet is made of baby camel and silk!!! Does that sound like something I'd be interested in? (The jewelry and spinning part.) She can keep her camel. The rest of you are stuck with whatever I come up with.

Thanks Flickr.

Finding my Mojo.

The hardest part about filling out the adoption paperwork for us was creating the profile. The profile includes the pictures of your family and your letter to the Birth parents. What are you supposed to say? Pick me??? Pick me?!?!?! Pick me!!!!!!

Try to ask any one's opinion on the matter and you will get a different suggestion from every person. I didn't ask when it came to the letter. I did ask about our pictures, though. In our profile picture we had a picture of Jedi (our ginormous dog) and boy did that get suggestions. Just about every person I asked suggested that we leave Jedi out of it. Most people's reasoning was along the lines of "not everyone likes dogs" "Some people are afraid of dogs." "Dogs and babies make people nervous." And while I appreciated the honesty, I honestly thought it was a stupid suggestion.

If our birth mother was not comfortable placing her baby in a home with large dogs, we were not the couple for her anyway. What were we supposed to do? Only show and say things that were not really us? Just the good stuff that makes us look fun and cute, and "LOOK WHAT AWESOME PARENTS WE'D MAKE!" I just wasn't comfortable with it. And so it stayed. As did the picture of me sitting on the floor in a my messy family room, with no make-up, hair in the pony tail and Ani in my lap.

The day that we met our birth mother her case worker asked her if she would like to share with us why she had chosen us. She shared some of the traits and hobbies that stood out to her from our letter and then she said, "You guys looked so normal."

I have realized lately that I have worried too much about what I should say and who might read my "letters" here on my blog. I have gotten away from who I really am, and what I really want to say. My in-laws read this. People from my favorite ward. My sisters. Extended family. Old friends. New friends. Random strangers. But while I may (or may not) love you, I don't write for you.

I write for me. Occasionally for my husband so he will know what I am thinking. I also write for Scrunch and in a way to honor her Birthmom. And they already know that I sometimes have ice cream for breakfast, have a tendency to lean towards a little irreverence, am obsessed with all things knitting, and that my favorite curse word is 'bastard'.

**If you only come to check out pictures of the most darling daughter, don't worry. Those pictures are staying. She really IS that cute in real life. Cuter even.

My new favorite song.

I unexpectedly have an entire extra day to myself since I got called off of work. Well, I volunteered to go home. I'm not going to spend it blogging, but I will likely spend it listening to this song over and over and over. Picture me knitting in rhythm.

Happy Birthday to the man!

The Legend, the Great Dr. Seuss is 102 today (or would have been.)

"Would you, could you, in the rain?

I would not, could not,
in the rain."

And he ain't a kiddin'. If it rains, then all fun comes to screeching halt. Well not ALL the fun. Just the birthday party at Fairytale town. It wasn't just a little rain either. More like a torrential downpour. I hardly ever wear hats unless I don't plan on showering. I have never owned an umbrella. And I've never worn rubber rain boots. All until today.

I wish I had a picture of us trying to get the kids in the car, but it will be sealed in my memory forever without it. Cussing, apologizing, then cussing again. Soaking wet. Coke cups splattered. Hour long drives for nothing. We looked ridiculous- totally in Dr. Seuss fashion.

We finally gave up and ended up at the bookstore to buy our very own copy of Green Eggs and Ham.

'I would not, could not in the rain.'

OK. OK. We get it. The sun may come out now.

Busy as I want to be.

Tomorrow is Dr. Seuss' birthday. And since he is on the list of top 50 people who will influence my child's first year, we are going to celebrate. I have made Cat in the Hat hats (pics tomorrow) and plan on serving Green Eggs and Ham for dinner. Sorry, honey. Bring home a pizza if you don't dig it. In the mean time I will leave you with a little poem for the week. Yes, I like poetry. Especially sappy poetry. Surprised? Somehow I thought you might be. Are you even more surprised to hear that I used to write it? For fun?!?!? And you thought you knew me.

Mother, O mother, come shake out your cloth!
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up the bed
.........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, rockaby, lullaby 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 her eyes the most wonderful hue?
..........Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo.)

Oh, cleaning and scrubbing will 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. Babies don't keep.

~~~~Ruth Hulburt Hamilton