>POEM
 I hope my children look back on today,
 And see parents who had time to play.
 There will be years for cleaning and cooking,
 But children grow up while we're not looking.
 Dusting and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow,
 For babies grow fast we learn to our sorrow.
 So quiet down cobwebs, and dust go to sleep,
 I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep.

Anonymous.<

Rather disturbed to realise that I qualify as now being in the years when I
better start cleaning and cooking, dusting and scrubbing.  Doesn't anyone have a
poem which might let the mother of children in double figures and in secondary
school a let-out??  Please??

Magda Sachs
Breastfeeding Supporter, BfN, UK

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