Do you ever get done wondering at the miracle that is your children? Each time I get to observe them unaware, each morning when I hear their voices for the first time, Jacks crooked smile and sideways wave; Alex's cheerful "Hia Mommy, Hia Daddy; Emma's giggle and dance; Bella's amazing stories, it's like I'm being handed them in the hospital all over again. That wonder and awe mixed with equal parts joy and fear. You can't believe their yours and you want to hug them so tight, but you're just so completely terrified of breaking them.
Many days I loose my patience more than I should. Many days I swear I deliver more "no's" and stern looks then "yes's" and hugs... I am exasperated at the broken dishes, (and phone, and lamps, and pictures...) I'm frustrated with how difficult a simple task is in a house of 6... I'm disappointed that I'm sending another perfectly good dinner down the drain, and it's not until my babies are minuets from bed, glistening with tub water, that my heart leaps up and smacks my head around and says "LOOK! Look at what you have! Look at that curve, that line, that straight strong back, that perfect little neck - you helped make that, and you should be oh so thankful for how it all turned out."