Sometimes it is still so hard to grasp the fact that I am a mom. I don’t know why. It has been well over six years since I first endured the horrific pain of labor followed immediately by a euphoric love for a newborn that stole my heart right from under me.
I make breakfasts, and lunches and dinners. I wash dishes and laundry and feet that are still small but no longer tiny. I ferry the boys to school and playdates and after school activites. I make crafts at the kitchen table and step on legos with my bare feet (OUCH!) and still, I wake up some mornings in disbelief that I am a mommy to these two wonders, these two little people.
Smothered in their kisses and warm hugs I sometimes feel I can’t contain the love and joy that I feel when I am surrounded by their presence.
And God managed to perfectly plan on mom’s getting exhausted and grumpy and worn out because nothing heals me faster then a sweet kiss from the same mouth that minutes before whined “Mooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom” for the hundredth time that day.
I AM a mom. And a damn good one at that. Because every day I suit up and do my best. and now, at thirty, I know I have and will continue to make mistakes along the way. But the one thing I have always done right is love my boys, love them to a degree that only another mother can understand. Love them so profoundly and passionately and unconditionally that it trancends all other emotion and energy. Love them with craziness that only makes sense to me.
Today, when my husband presented me with a bouquet of flowers bigger than my front door and told me how lucky he and the boys were to have me in their lives, I realized a truth that i will never take for granted:
I am the lucky one.
Happy Mother’s Day to you Mamusiu and Babciu and all of you amazing ladies that are so dear to me.