Tiny Humans

Lisa-Jo Baker, a blogger, took the words right out of my mouth.  I love how she articulates this. 

I am full and fulfilled.
I am older and comfortable in my skin.
I am about the work of raising tiny humans.

 

I am out of my mind and in my calling and desperate for 5 minutes alone and a lifetime together.

I want to stop time, tame my fears, bottle their dreams, live a hundred summers of dripping, sticky, caramel ice cream.

And in between I hang onto my faith, my temper, and my sense of humor with my fingernails.  These are the good days, the glory days, the slow as molasses days.  These are the fast years, the wonder years, the how do -I-find the words years.

But we do.  They usually start with "help" and end with "thank you" and the middle?

 

The middle is a thick layer of one syllable wonder sometimes whispered, often shouted, always answered. 

The middle is me.  The middle is you.  The middle is just, "mom."

 

Wow, don't you love how she said this! These two tiny humans wear me out, exasperate me, make me laugh so hard, scare me to death and bring me more joy than I could ever believe was possible.  I pray everyday that I can raise them right.  I have always been a very girlish, girl.  Sometimes I wonder if I am being a good boy's mom.  Some nights I go to bed feeling like a complete failure, but then in the morning when they both come running with their arms out stretched, I feel renewed.