Babies Don't Keep

I'm sure you've all heard of the poem that ends "I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep". The lesson being that housework doesn't go anywhere (and I can certainly attest to that) but babies grow up all too fast (I can attest to that as well, according to the calendar I have a three year old, but I don't believe it). That's hard for me becuase I like to keep a clean and orderly house and sometimes *gasp* I even enjoy the housework, mainly because of the satisfaction I'll get when it's done. I sometimes don't take enough time to just enjoy my children. So, the other day I left Skyler in his room during nap time for longer than I should have and just enjoyed Jonah. I don't really get into babies unless they're mine. There is something so special about a baby that's mine. More special than a three year old that's mine (though don't get me wrong, Skyler's priceless especially when he informs me that the dog we just saw didn't eat us, it just woofed). Babies are just different and I wanted to enjoy that and take in all of Jonah's smiles, feel how he felt in my arms as I rocked him, and watch his face light up when I give him a kiss. Because even now, three days later, he's different and, much to my chagrin, bigger. When I read this a year or two down the road, I know I won't remember the fact that the dishwasher needed emptying and bathrooms needed to be cleaned, but I'll remember just how Jonah was a few days shy of three months old.