This reflection on A Song for a Fifth Child emphasizes that while a tidy home is comforting, a mother’s presence, mindset, and love for her children matter far more than perfection.
I remember the first time I read this poem—it was posted on the wall of my midwife’s office. At the time, I was pregnant with my third child and already an overwhelmed mother. In the trenches of caring for a newborn, I knew my home would often go to shambles simply because I was tending to my baby.
Over the years, the meaning of this poem has evolved for me. Lately, I’ve noticed some moms feeling that the “don’t stress the mess” attitude can be dismissive—pretending the mess isn’t there doesn’t magically make a mom feel less overwhelmed. I can attest to that personally: when my home is chaotic and I’m drowning in laundry, telling myself “I’ll get around to it another day” doesn’t suddenly make everything better.
But my perspective has shifted, and this sweet poem remains one of my favorites. While we know a tidy home can make us feel calmer, we don’t always have control over the state of our house. Whether we have a newborn and a husband just returned to work, or we can’t afford a housekeeper, the house isn’t always as neat as we want it to be.
What we can control, however, is our mindset. Can we blissfully rock our baby while the house is a mess? Absolutely. Can we ignore the cobwebs while tending to something more important? Yes. The dishes and dust won’t vanish simply because we’re frustrated—but our presence and joy with our children are far more important.
This poem is also a gentle reminder to visitors that a new mother’s priorities aren’t about keeping her home perfect for others’ eyes. Perhaps it belongs on the front door of every new mom’s house! And for those who have a fifth child—or more—this poem resonates even more deeply: with each child, we must let go of control a little more in order to grow as mothers.
In short: don’t let negative emotions take over, even when the house is messy. Focus on the things that truly matter—the love, the presence, the fleeting moments with your children.
Song for a Fifth Child
by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo.
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust, go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby, and babies don’t keep.