Tonight had the marks of a disastrous evening.
I had two over-hungry, over-tired, cranky boys.
One was teething something bad.
The other was missing his daddy, something bad.
And me? Well, I was tired. Overwhelmed. Just trying to hold it all together.
The last hours of the day stretched before us, and I didn’t know how we would fill them.
The kiddo, he knew. He declared that we would have a party. Not a party for anything in particular. But a party that included both balloons and music.
And dancing. Ninja dancing. Obviously.
So we set to decorating the house. Our homemade paper balloons filled the walls.
Music filled the air.
And our ninja dance moves, they filled my soul.
At one point, while I was frozen in a ninja pose, waiting for the kiddo to decide what move was next, I watched the little man toddle over to his big brother, and pause behind him. Two bodies. One concentrating on the Lego magazine in front of him. The other concentrating on his big brother.
Identical these two boys are.
As the little man toddled away, his attention caught by something in the kitchen, my breath caught in my throat.
My eyes welled up with tears.
And I was completely and utterly overwhelmed by the miracle of these two little lives.
I felt, deep in my bones, how very precious they are. How very precious this moment was.
How very precious it is that Hubs and I have been trusted to raise them.
The moment passed, and we began dancing again. But that feeling, it’s still there. Deep in my soul.
It fueled me through the rest of the night.
It pushed me to be patient and loving.
It reminded me that time is fleeting.
They need me less and less.
But these moments are what I will carry with me when they have moved out…moved on…and found their own lives to live.