I Love Being a Mother

I love the smell of the kids’ lotion on my hands long after their baths are over.

I love when they crawl into bed with me after a bad dream and the way their tiny bodies fit so snugly up against me.

I love that my daughter says pampakes instead of pancakes and that my son thinks he can fly when he puts on his batman costume.

I love the way my newborn’s mouth forms a perfect “O” as he drifts off to sleep.

I love the vertical, brown line on my abdomen and my varicose veins that remind me of the 9 months I carried them inside me.

I love my grey hairs that remind me of the many more years I will spend worrying about them.

I love falling in love with my husband as I watch him comb our daughter’s hair into pigtails.

I love the fact that there is a sticky skeleton dangling from the ceiling in our bedroom from Halloween two years ago that I will never take down.

I love reading them the same bedtime stories my mother read to me when I was a child.

I love kissing their boo-boos and finding lost toys.

I love checking on them before I go to bed and watching them sleep.  I love their messy hair and sleepy eyes and stinky breath when they wake up.

I love the feeling of their silky hands wrapped around my finger as we cross the street.

I love feeling needed and I need them right back.

I am a mother.

I love.