The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of

I don't think I fully understood how much my parents loved me until I became a parent myself. My heart is constantly overwhelmed with the love and joy that these three bring me despite the frustration and fatigue that sometimes comes along with parenthood. Those quiet moments before bed are often spent looking back at the photos of the day and this is one of my favorites from today. 

My heart constantly aches for them, I want to protect them from everything and shield them from all the bad in this world. I want them to always love one another and be kind, hopeful, and full of faith. I worry about them being insecure, scared, or alone. I stress about if they'll make good friends who will support them and be good influences. But right now is the only time when I can wipe away all their anxieties and pain with a kiss it a hug. One embrace solves it all. I know it won't always and that may be why this time is so insanely glorious and difficult at once. The moments are so fleeting and my little kids change so fast and learn so much while other moments feel like a never ending replay of déjàvu (like being on my hands and feet and sweeping their crumbs off the floor or picking up duplos and wiping pee off the bathroom floor). And yet like my kids, just one glimpse of a sweet moment when my three kids are loving each other or playing together, and all the repetition of cleaning after them, falling asleep while they play and hoping they don't die in this instance and then waking up to mediate a fight or because someone jumped on me, the angst and cruel pain from tripping on a tiny toy in the middle of the night, or wishing they would just get out the door already in the morning is wiped away. I'm a blank slate again and all I see are hearts.