My reason for a messy house

A friend sent me this poem today. It sums up why my house is usually messier than I would like it to be, why the clothes pile up, why the yard work waits for another weekend. It is unvoidable to say the words, "not right now sweety" but I try to remember I will miss this time when they get older, so I need to enjoy it now.

A Little Later

My hands were busy through the day.

I didn’t have much time to play

The little games you asked me to.

I didn’t have much time for you.

I’d wash your clothes, I’d sew and cook

But when you’d bring your picture book

And ask me please to share your fun

I’d say: “A little later son.”

I’d tuck you in all safe at night,

Hear your prayers, turn out the light

Then tiptoe softly to the door.

I wish I’d stayed a minute more.

For life is short.

The years rush past.

A little boy grows up so fast.

No longer is he at your side

His precious secrets to confide.

The picture books are put away.

There are no longer games to play.

No good-night kiss, no prayers to hear.

That all belongs to yesteryear.

My hands once busy, now are still.

The days are long and hard to fill.

I wish I could go back and do

The little things you asked me to.

- Unknown