For my favorite duck, Daffy

As some of you know, our friend Daffy over at BatCrap Crazy lost her sister.

Daffy is one of the nicest, funniest people I have had the pleasure of "finding" on the Internet. I haven't been reading Daffy's blog for a very long time, just a few short months but in that time I have come to look forward to every day that she posts. Daffy has a great sense of humor and strives to make others smile with her own special brand of funny.

I know that Daffy doesn't know me. I'm a newcomer to the land of blogs.

I just wanted to tell you, Daffy, that you have made my life brighter. I'm so sorry that you lost your sister. No one should ever have to say goodbye to the people they love most in this world.

You will all be in my prayers. May your family's hearts find peace.

Brought to my knees...

There are days that bring me to my knees. I read something, hear something, or see something that knocks me down. Whether it's a story of the needless death of yet another child at the hands of an abusive parent or one mother's story of the loss of her infant through no fault of her own, something about these days brings me down hard.

These stories bring me to my knees. They bring me down to my babies' levels.

Down to where I can wrap them in my arms and wish I never had to let them go. They bring me down to where I pray to God, thanking him for giving me these three sweet angels.

Days like today. Where one more story of death has me wanting to leave work early to go pick my kids up from daycare and go home and just hold them. All of them. Close to my heart and safe in my arms.

In one breath I am damning these days and being thankful for them all at the same time. I damn these days because they remind of how the lives of the ones I love dearest are so fragile. So breakable. I'm thankful for these days because sometimes I need that reminder. When life gets too busy and it turns into one task after another, I need a slap in the face to remind me of how these moments are fleeting. They are a shock to the system. A jolt that wakes the fiercely strong warrior-mama in my heart back up.

So today, I'm brought to my knees. I'm down for the count. Pressed to the mat. The weight that holds me there...a heart-bursting love from which I hope never to escape. Count me out because I'm not coming back from this one. No way.

My heart...

She's started walking, you know? My girl. My baby. My little Grabby.

My heart can't take much more of this growing up stuff. They need to cut it out.

She toddles up to me, wraps her tiny arms around my legs, turns her face up at me, and smiles the sweetest smiles. Just for me. Oof! There goes my heart again. Toddling away in the miniature hands of one of my tiny angels.

Then there's Noggin. My big boy. My first baby (by two minutes). The one who demands, "You give me kisses." Who copies my favorite thing to say when I give him hugs ("Big ol' hugs! Mommy gets the best hugs in the world!") and melts my heart every time. Always asking me if I like his shirt, hair, shoes, glasses (sunglasses), pants, and whatever else he can find to ask me if I like it.

He's huggy and snuggly and he's starting to have that stinky, sweaty little boy smell after he's been outside playing (you know, the combo of sweat, dirt, grass, and worm guts). I'm not sure I'm ready for little boys who don't smell like baby wash all day long. Oof! There goes my heart again. Running off with my nose.

And last but only least in birth weight, my little Screech. Quick to sit back up in bed just so I'll give him one(twelve) more kiss(es) before bed. Giggles like no body's business when you tickle him but always comes back for more tickles. Growls at me like a dinosaur and runs faster than the wind when I chase after him.

He's so independent. I'll do it. Tie my shoes (in a knot), put my coat on the hanger (upside down, how I don't know), pull my socks off (inside out), unzip my coat (every.single.time. I put it on him). Oof! There goes my heart again. Stuck in his pocket with 3 more Lego blocks that aren't supposed to go to daycare.

They run off with my heart over a million times a day and you know what?

I'll let them play with it any time they want to...

Rescue me...

With every breath they take, they rescue me.

My kids save me from myself most days. When my sanity is at its limits and I think I can't possibly handle one. more. thing. going wrong, they smile or giggle and I'm back again.

A little hand resting on my arm as they watch CARS for the millionth time.

A tiny voice calling out for momma in the middle of the night that rips me from my dreams.

A smile so big that it could light the world.

A tear rolling down a little cheek that only I can dry.

They rescue me. They bring me back to earth. When I'm hurtling through space headed for gravity way too fast and I need a soft spot to land; there they are with a heart-shaped cushion.

Little jokes that only we share (it amazes me that even at three years old and one year old, they can get a joke). My little prankster, always trying to make me laugh. My opinionated little man who loves the sound of his own voice. My sweet girl, who is at one moment fierce and ready for anything and then in the next moment is crying crocodile tears because she bumped her toe.

They all three rescue me in different ways. I've heard the stories about the oldest being used as an example and the youngest getting away with murder. The middle child being all but forgotten. I don't believe it. I think we love each and every one of our children in different ways but the thing that stays the same is the love. It is equally as loyal and protective for the first born as it is for the last born and that never changes.

I love the different traits that make each of my children unique. The way one of my twins can focus on playing with two matchbox cars so intently that almost nothing can break his attention. The way that his brother can get so excited by seeing a bird fly by the window. The way my girl will bury her head in my neck when a stranger talks to her and she's being bashful.

I also love how each one of them will call for me when they're hurt or scared. I love how easy it is for me to make them smile. I love how they can pick me from a crowd in no time. I love being their hero when they need one. I love being able to look at them and see the best parts of me because I know no one else will ever love me the way they do and that's a powerful feeling.

My children are my heart, soul, and mind and every day they do something different that saves me from myself. I know they will always rescue me.