They are mine. I love them to pieces. So on one hand they fight over toys, whine about missing toys, dump out all their cars, trains and trucks and then leave them all over the floor for me to step on, yell, run through the house screaming at a decibel I'm sure will cause me to go deaf by the age of 35, lose things... and on the other hand: snuggle with me, say silly things that make me smile, giggle uncontrollably, give me spontaneous hugs around my legs, kiss their little sister when she's crying, tell me they missed me if I'm gone for even an hour, love me because I'm their Mama.
They are wonderful boys. I wouldn't want anything else, although I could stand for less whining and fighting. They are growing up. They are only 4 and 2, but time is already speeding by. I can't stop it. It feels like yesterday I was holding this tiny baby and today he's walking, jumping on one leg, holding actual conversations with me...When did this happen? Somewhere between me singing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and him learning how to put his boots on by himself, my four year old decided he was a little man. And my 2 year old...he's almost 3. He's very close to being a little man too. And this must be why Little Rose just learned to hold her own bottle.
I think I'm hormonal,
Mama
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