Saturday, January 30, 2016

onetwothree

Her breath is hot against my cheek, smelling like Cheerios. She nuzzles in, closer than I thought was humanly possible. Her sticky, chubby fingers grasp handfuls of my shirt, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath. Her stirring slows until she stops completely, finally content with the way her body meshes into mine. 

My heart feels like it's going to beat out of my chest because I know that soon she will be chasing her brothers around the house, too busy to snuggle. 

This is important.

Lazy afternoons with nothing but the delicious weight of a snoring baby on the agenda. Squeals from little boys eating gross jelly beans. Countless games of Uno and Candy Land. Watching the same tricks on the trampoline on repeat. Taking note of Halloween costume requests in February. Writing notes from the Tooth Fairy. Kissing boo-boos. Making school lunches. Reading bedtime stories.



This is what I want to remember. 

Being a parent, being THEIR mom is more incredible than I could have ever imagined. Experiencing life through their eyes, watching them learn by trying new things, taking wobbly steps and getting to grow with them is a beautiful, messy gift.

And I wouldn't trade it for anything.

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