Four

It's almost midnight and that means my babies will be four. Four years old. That is big. That is one year away from kindergarten. Just one year. I never imagined myself to be the sentimental parent, the one who cries when cribs are taken down, car seats change to boosters or pull ups replacing diapers. But I do. Cry. A lot. I can't quite believe that my babies will be four. Certainly I know that the time has passed but I just have to wonder where it went. I can't even remember what it was like to hold their tiny little bodies. How they must have fit so perfectly into the crook of my arm. A place for each one of them. I wish I could go back into that moment where their giggles erupted into a thousand twinkles of light. Sprinkling me with illumination. I want to close my eyes and when I open them I want to see tiny baby hands with dimples wrapped around me. I want to feel those sweet open mouthed slobbery kisses dripping down my face. I want to put them into a tub full of bubbles and wrap them in a towel and inhale the scent that is all baby. I want what time has stolen.
And yet. If I were to go back, then I couldn't move forward. I wouldn't be able to watch them learn to jump with both feet. Put their heads under the water. Ride a bike. Swing from a big swing. Learn to identify their colors. Make friends. Follow directions. Make choices. Say their name. Say MY name. Grow up.
It's hard. This parenting business. It is so very hard. Every single day I am challenged. Every single day I question myself. I don't always do the right thing. I probably rarely do the right thing. But the boys don't hold it against me. They simply love me.
This past year has been hard. Discipline has been rough. I am alone during the day with two strong willed littles. I want them to assert their independence but yet have respect for me. I worry way too much about what others think about my parenting style. I become consumed with guilt if I spoke too loudly. When they take a nap, the majority of the time I lie down too because I'm exhausted. Sometimes I wonder if I said anything nice to them that day at all. Most of the time I feel as if I am telling them, NO, or I'm done. At the end of the day my patience is shot and I can't wait for them to be in their room, door closed. I even feel as if I say prayers with them half heartedly.
And they still aren't potty trained. I don't have the energy for it.
Yet. I wouldn't trade it. Some days are hard. Some days are just plain awful. But there are moments of absolute bliss that shine, making it worth it. These boys now have personalities. Unique adorable personalities. They are little people. And I am addicted to them. To their little voices. I have never heard an angel giggle but I would imagine that the voice of a toddler is pretty similar. I can be having a bad day, a bad moment and one of them will say something and I will stop. Aware of this grace that is my child. The child I fiught so hard to give life to.
Every day I need to be intentional with these greatest gifts. Every day I have the opportunity to start over in His grace. Every day I am blessed to be their momma.
Happy Birthday babies.