That's right. Today is supposed to be all about the boys, and my kiddos and I are the lucky recipients of the best daddies ever, but! I spent most of the afternoon thinking about how much I love being a mommy.
I was holding Jesse and he threw his chubby arms around my neck and laid his over-sized head on my shoulder and I started thinking about how amazing these little people are and how I love them so hard that it hurts. Children are kinda magic you know, they are so fresh and bright that you can still see God's fingerprints all over their faces. I really don't know how people can be both a parent and an atheist at the same time, they must not be paying attention to all the miracles.
Gosh I sound like a raging sap. Whatever. I was holding my little boy this morning and I just started crying. Not that smiling, whisk a tear from one eye kind of crying, but the sobbing, sweating, saltwater face wash kind of weeping that you should never do in public. Puffy eyes, snorty, weird noises ghoulish mascara kind of debacle.
Sure, I could blame the soaring music of the musicians we were watching or the 6am bedtime I accidentally had because I was trying not to watch a scary movie in bed with Evan, but no! No excuses. I will own that being a mother will break you and make you into the best version of yourself, strong yet humble, indulgent but sacrificing, selfless but greedy for more. It also might turn you from a cool kid who trots the globe into a blubbering weirdo who only dreams of grassy pastures full of skipping children.
Sorry Evan for stealing your father's day thunder. not really
3 comments:
Shayla - I always love your posts, but this one is definitely extra special. There is just something about holding your own child with their head resting on your shoulder which is pretty darn indescribable. I cherish every time I get a Chloe snuggle because I know that all too soon (sniff) she'll be too big or " too cool" :)
Ah Kelly! You were on my mind just yesterday, I was remembering your tiny mom clomping around the house in her heels and kimono and thinking about how you're a doctor now and how crazy it all is that we're "grownups" and "moms". You are awesome.
oh. gulp. That's beautiful and so true about it breaking you. Nobody warns you about that unique pain (a good pain but pain nonetheless). Surely the French have a word for it, they know how to name all the in-between feelings. Le bleu l'amour aux Mamas.
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