I find myself savoring the smallest moments of stillness and quiet after reveling in the rowdiness of life. I love the tumbles my big boy takes, knowing that he’s testing the world around him and learning with each “boom.” Arms outstretched, he runs to me to “kiss it better” and solve his problems.
Sleeping or simply listening, I watch as she lies there peacefully taking in the sights, sounds and smells of her new surroundings. Mere weeks feel like months. And not because time is dragging on. No. It just feels good and right, like each of us was waiting for her to complete our family.
Most days, I have it together. Most days I feel good, so good it’s almost unsettling. Then there are moments, not full-fledged days yet, when my mind is spinning at such a frenetic pace with things that I must or should or just plain have to get done. Sprinkle in the I-want-to’s and it feels like too much.
So I sit. I cry. Not tears of sadness, just of the overwhelming desire to be all things to everyone – including myself. Then I realize, as I share a book, a snuggle, or a sweet milky smile that these are the ways my sweet ones “kiss it better” for mommy.