Life is busy, emotional, slow moving yet moving to fast, and a whole extreme mess of ups and downs as we begin the process of saying goodbyes and packing up to head home to America, all while trying to soak in as many last minute memories as we can fit into the next few weeks before our departure. This morning was one of those mornings in which everything seemed to rub me the wrong way and nothing seemed to go the way I wanted. I took it out on you, my little love, and hated myself for it. I wrote Papa and asked him to pray for me throughout the day and he responded with a line he often tells me in moments where I lose my patience and feel as if I am failing, "Breath. Smile. Love. Think only of all the blessing you have
in front of you." He gets me, and always opens my eyes to see the good in everything, putting into perspective the bigger picture when I am blinded by my bad attitude and selfishness.
As you are both sleeping soundly, I am pondering all the little details of our days and the moments that stop me in my tracks with gratitude and overwhelming joy that you are mine. I am the one that has the honor of being your mother. I am the one that gets to hold you, love you, laugh with you, wipe away your tears and the one you want more than anyone else (with exception to Mamie most of the time!). Here are a few of the things I want to hold on to and remember from this busy time of life:
Your care and concern for your brother. You are always watching out for him, making sure he isn't getting into anything that might cause him harm, loving on him, never forgetting to kiss him goodnight, eager to get him when he wakes up from his naps, rejoicing over him when he does something new, and constantly making him laugh. The love you two have for one another is so special to me.
The way in which Marcel needs me. It is different then the way you needed me, and although at times it is tiresome I am honored to be the one he always reaches for and desires. He lights up for Papa and flaps his arms in joy when he enters the room, but it is me he lunges towards and my arms in which he likes best.
Watching you mother your little baby doll, Tinkerbell, is absolutely beautiful. You are so tender and kind, always whispering in her ear, "I la you baby," while you gently stroke her head with your cheek up against hers. You like carrying her close to you tucked in your shirt, and it is the sweetest!
I could listen to you play make believe all day long. You have such an imagination these days and we can't get enough of it. I try to capture it on film, but you are not a lover of the camera and quickly shy away from your imaginary world.
Hearing your sweet voice as you peek out of your room in the morning quietly saying to me, "Morning Mama," as you walk over to me and gently nuzzle your sweaty head into my shoulder.
Seeing the look of pure joyful pride on little Marcel's sweet face as he pulls himself up, standing tall and strong as his own two feet. He squeals, while you clap, and my heart fills.
It is in these little things, and so many more, that make me realize that all the hard, mundane, tiring moments are far beyond worth it to have the privilege to be called Mom to you two little loves. The snuggles, smiles, sweet words, salty kisses, and sounds of joy and laughter are the greatest joys I have ever known.
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