The Importance of Time

It was funny to read Liz's blog because I was feeling the same way today. There is a poem I read in my book on being a good mother and I know I sent it to a few of you but I thought I would post it again. Here you go:

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 asked me please to share your fun,
I'd say "A little later son."

I'd tuck you in all safe at night
And 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 one grows up so fast.
No longer are they at your side,
Their precious secrets to confide.

The picture books are put away,
There are no longer games to play.
No good-night kisses, 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.

Still makes me teary- eyed every time I read it. I have it hanging on my fridge as a reminder but I don't take it's advice as often as I should.