time machine

i love being a mom.

i love being at home with my girls.

i love running errands with them.

i love soaking up the day with them.

i love wasting away the day with them.

i tell my husband at least once weekly, that i was born to be a mom.

don't get me wrong. i have my moments. embarrassing moments when i snap at them. when i feel like a frazzled woman pulling her hair out. when i feel like i have no idea what i'm doing. times when i force them outside because if i hear one more whine, or cry, or bicker, i.will.lose.it.

but i also know that one day, i will genuinely miss it. i know myself well enough to know that i will regret not embracing it all. the good and the bad. call me crazy, but i know i will.

i'm not perfect. i know i will never be, and that is okay.

but the most important thing i've learned (and am constantly re-learning) is how perfect those imperfect moments can be.

the other day at lunch after adele had thrown half of her food on the ground and cried, yelled and screamed for me to take her out of her chair (something she does daily, mind you), i gave up and finally did what she wanted, knowing full well that she had not eaten nearly enough. i was so bugged at the mess she had unnecessarily made for me. a few minutes later i heard the girls giggling and asking if they could share their crackers with her. i turned around to see two chubby legs, under the table. she was begging her sisters for some scraps of food.

i grabbed my trusty time machine and trapped this moment. this perfect moment of mine, this treasured moment of mine. this moment which represents so many of our days at home together, days that i will one day miss... crumbs on the floor and all.