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Some houses try to hide the fact
That children shelter there.
Ours boasts it quite openly,
The signs are everywhere. . .
For smears are on the windows,
Little smudges on the doors;
I should apologize, I guess,
For toys strewn on the floor.
But I sat down with the children
And we played and laughed and read;
And if the doorbell doesn't shine,
Their eyes will shine instead.
For when at times I'm forced to choose,
The one job or the other . . .
I want to be a housewife,
But first I'll be a MOTHER.
