I love moments. Maybe not so much in the moments of trying to get a three-year-old to skip one little step in his nightly routine without a meltdown, or reasoning with a baby to keep one morsel of food on his highchair tray, but more in the moments of finding Blake and Nash giggling their heads off at each other. Moments where Nash picks up on the sign language for “more” and knows exactly what it means. Moments where Blake proudly recites the letters on the cereal box. Moments where the boys think they have died and gone to heaven when I take a few cushions off the couch for them to crawl around on:
In between the dishes and the meals and the laundry and the monotony of daily tasks that will be undone within a few hours, those sweet moments are certain to push to the surface every single day. The moments are what make this whole mothering journey worth it.
I’m so grateful that this is my family.