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This Old House Has Children
© Lisa Barker

My house is old, it creaks and moans
Like my aging body and aching bones.
It needs new cabinets, paint and flooring.
It's not the house to come adoring.
But yet my house is like my soul,
Aged and accented by life's toll.
What seems 'not new' to some who look
Is really just a sacred book.

Nicks and scratches and carpet stains
Are just clear proof of labor pains.
Just like stretch marks on my abdomen,
My house has borne my chil-der-ren.
There's more than toys sprawled on the floor,
There's creaking, crooked, screen-less doors.
Weeds grow in the garden, too,
Our little house is no longer new.

It'll never show in magazines
With fresh painted walls and color schemes.
Here and there a hole or two,
A sagging sofa that once was blue
But now is covered with a throw,
The very first thing to go
When in come the children to bounce, bounce, bounce.
It's not a museum it's a house.

Bikes out on the patchy lawn,
Hopscotch in the driveway drawn.
A basketball hoop and one crushed rose.
I told those kids to be careful with those!
Fingerprints on all the doors,
A leak or two when it pours.
Windows wiggled off the track,
Artwork on the wall is tacked.

Crooked pictures on the wall
A noisy gang, a boisterous brawl!
They bustle 'round from dawn to dusk,
Making cleaning and repairs a must.
But all these woes must take a number,
It's my children's hearts and sense of wonder
That are number one for happy Mother . . .
I really doubt I'd like my druthers.

Because . . .

I sometimes pine for an immaculate house;
When I scrub the floors and walls I grouse.
But the reality is plain to see,
My children mean a lot to me.
Without them I'd be on my own
My house would never feel like home
There I'd sit with pretty stuff,
Temporal trappings and mindless fluff.

So, dear moms, when you are sad and wonder why
Your home will never ever fly
And pass inspection by the stylish kind,
Take a moment to unwind.
And please remember someday soon,
You'll have lots of time to clean each room.
Off to college and brand new lives
Your children will leave before your eyes.

Enjoy them while they're still at home
And maybe one day when they're grown
A knock on the door you'll rush to greet
The happy grandchildren at your feet.
Screams and giggles and cookies, too,
Butterfly kisses just for you,
Fingerprints and tipped over cups . . .
God has blessed you oh so much!