I love being a mom

I love being a mom.

Freaking adore it.

I said this at a playgroup a few weeks ago and one mom responded with, "Are you kidding me? Don't you ever just feel insane?"

Sure I do. I'm like every other mother. I'm tired and touched out. Sometimes the whining is worse than nails on a chalkboard and I run out of answers for "why?"

But yes, mostly I just love it.

I love waking up to sweet (and some mornings not so sweet) babes. I love making them breakfast and planning daily adventures with them.

I love being amazed that these awesome people came from me.

I love realizing how just in the past week they've changed so much. B has had a verbal burst. I'm not sure J will recognize this crazy talkative toddler when we finally return home.

H mastered doing a back flip on the bar today. I was terrified and amazed by her executing it. Over and over again. 

I love their tiny arms around my neck. I love wet kisses. And butterfly kisses. And Eskimo kisses. And puppy kisses.

I love the way they say "momma" and "mommy."

I love the sounds of their laughs.

Even when they're sad or mad I love it. I love those moments when H is taking deep breaths to calm down from a fit and she looks into my eyes, so wise and confident and in control, and I can all ready are this incredible person she is. I love how after a tantrum from exhaustion she curls up beside me and moves my hand to her back so I can rub it until she drifts to slumberland.

I love B's ridiculous fake cry and how he runs to me when he decides to use it. I love how he pokes my eyes every time he shrieks, "eye!" I love how when he's almost asleep and I unlatch him from my breast he whines and roots, a cross of a newborn and a puppy, until finally snuggling into my chest.

I love how even though they still wake up a million times at night they can curl up next to me and be calm again.

I love how they want to play all day long with me.

I love how they help me fold the laundry, always making it necessary for me to fold it all again. And then they jump into the clothes basket and make me wonder why I even bothered folding it on the first place.

I love how they wash the mirrors after I do, making them streaky all over again. I love how they so intensely help me dust and wash floors.

I love how B pulls tiny pieces of toilet paper off the roll and deposits it into the toilet and then flushes it.

I love how H insists on having her towel wrapped around her like "baby Ghandi" after every bath.

I love how they both get more use out of playing with my make-up than I do wearing it.

I love how they take all of the shoes out of my closet and line them up, trying each pair on.

I love how they make me read the same book over and over eleventy billion times and just when I think I will lose my mind if I read it again, I do read it again. And I don't lose my mind because the whole time I'm reading it they are smiling and alert, their eyes bright and excited, just like the very first time I ever cracked the spine open.

I love that they don't notice I've worn the same legging three days in a row or that my hair is dirty. They don't judge.

I love the way they smell.

I love that no matter how long or stressful the day may have been, the "bad" melts away and is unimportant. There is never a moment that I cannot see one of them or think about them and a smile come to my face. 

Yes, I love being a mom.

And I still say this after having to ride the extremely boring Hershey's chocolate tour ride seven times today and neither child napped. Four epic meltdowns and one bathtub full of such dirty babies you couldn't see through the water. 

It's awesome. It's beautiful. I love it. 

Each and every second.