Tuesday, May 27, 2014


Sometimes, having two is tough.  I feel stretched as I do my best to meet both of their needs all the time, and feel that familiar mom-guilt seep in as I fail at the unrealistic ideal I've formed in my head.  One minute, I quietly murmur, It will get better, and the very next, I literally ache at the thought of them getting old.  I live in the trenches of motherhood, of balance, of bouncing between the ebb and the flow like a pinball machine just trying to find her resting place.  

And then I watch them together.  

I watch how her little mouth opens up like a baby bird when he gets close, how she seems to hang on to every word he says as if it's the sweetest sound she's ever heard.  And him, how he tests the waters with us almost daily, yet has been nothing but sweet, loving, and incredibly patient with her since the day we brought her into his life.  I've witnessed a new kind of love watching them as brother and sister.  A love that is innocent, effortless, and accepting.  I may not do everything right when it comes to this balance thing, but watching their bond blossom and flourish has been one of my greatest gifts.   


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