The days of runny noses, butterfly kisses, raspberries on tummy's and dinky cars are too fleeting to properly imprint on a busy mothers memory for future savoring. Each day them I must work to consciously store these memories of our days, that to someone whatching may seem ordinary.
As I continue to marvel at tiny, perfect Jacob and his brother who It seems I held just this way only moments ago, I can't help but try to slow these days down as I simultaneously rush through them. When I catch myself looking to the clock in hopes that nap time can creep a little quicker to rescue me from the shrieking two year old with heavy eyelids who managed to get the pot and pan cupboard open I have to remember. I remember that these are the best moments of my life, they are the funniest, sweetest and loveliest bits of life and they come in the form of little boys who absolutely light up my life, full fill my purpose and give me understanding and perspective I could never have imagined without them. I am so grateful for these days of just me and my boys. Many days are "just days". We color, watch cartoons, read and reread books. We throw pebbles down the storm drain, walk to the mailbox and stomp in puddles. We make sandwiches and I peel apple after apple. We pause for nursing sessions and diaper changes. We chat about airplanes and ladybugs (what do they call the boys?!). We follow the garbage truck around the neighbourhood and go to the playground. We blow bubbles and colour our driveway with sidewalk chalk, we walk twenty five minutes to old navy just to put a quarter in the big bouncy ball gumball machine. I kiss bumped heads and hurt feelings, sing songs and make up new ones. We do puzzles and I applaud puppet shows. I coax smiles and play catch while we count down the days until the snow is all gone and the sandbox lid comes off. These are our days. They are "just days" and they are mine. They are treasured.