I feel like I could hold her forever. The way she melts into me each night after her bottle.
I thank the lord for sleeping babies. The girls are teething and that means shorter fuses and tired mommy arms.
The boy is going thru something. I don’t know what it is exactly but he’s struggling. Maybe it’s the sisters. They get a lot of attention being babies. And he is so sufficient I think the poor kid gets lost in the everyday. I try to make the few moments we have alone count. We play real board or card games. We read. We do “together time.”
But it’s hard. At one point this love of mine was my universe and had my sole attention. My mama’s heart grows with each child, but unfortunately I don’t get any extra limbs, or have more lap space.
And I am short with him. I expect a lot. I realize I put so much on his small shoulders. Sometimes too much. Sometimes the right amount. But that’s the thing, the recipe for the right amount changes. All the time. It feels impossible to duplicate and must be just the right ingredients.
Teaching him, leading him. Growing a man is hard and toilsome work. But. I come from strong stock. We Swedes were built to last (and birth babies so my mother told me) and motherhood is not for the faint of heart. Quitting is not an option. So I toil and work hard. Getting my hands dirty in the raising of children. Weeding and planting. Sowing seeds of character into my children. Praying…”dear lord, don’t let them remember my anger and tears. But instead my love for them and their hearts.” For they are my hearts. Just beating outside my body.