Yesterday, I posted a picture of the kidlets — all three of them — sitting on our living room couch.
Three children in matching Dr. Seuss shirts.
Three of them, y’all.
There was a time when I cried and despaired to have children, believing the doctors who told me it wouldn’t happen. Believing in negativity.
Now, I take silly pictures of three children.
I write about the ridiculous antics of three children.
I hear the voices of three children crying, laughing, singing, and squealing…. and, of course, arguing and tattling –but we won’t dwell on that.
I wash thirty little toes.Whisper in six little ears.Kiss three little mouths.
Every day — even in the moments when I am craving for peace and a moment to run to the bathroom alone — I’m awestruck by the fact there are THREE of them.
When I was asked to write about my most “meaningful” moment of 2011, I shook my head. One moment? Impossible! Try 525,600 minutes.
How could I choose between finding out I was pregnant and the second I first saw the beating heart on the doctor’s ultrasound machine?
Or what about those moments when I should have been disciplining the kidlets but I wastoo busy laughing?
Or the moment I gazed upon the face of a child for the first time?
Am I able to select one moment as the most memorable, the most meaningful, the most special? No … no more than I could choose my “favorite” child.
Ultimately,every single moment of 2011 was a moment I was a mother… a title I had been told, in a moment fifteen years earlier, I would never hold.
And because of that, I had a year of meaningful moments.
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