+1 vote
"My husband and I always say these are the best days of our lives.
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"My husband and I always say these are the best days of our lives.

Our house is full of laughter and early risers. Bright eyes, eager to greet the new day.

Kids that want a morning tv show, they ask when they think we're too tired to say no...breakfast with the rising sun.

Homeschool lessons.

Sad faces when daddy goes to work or anytime mommy has an errand or appointment.

Being greeted at the door when you get home. Hugs, kisses, 'I missed you.'

One day they'll wave goodbye when dad goes to work. One day they won't hurry outside after him for one more hug.

One day they won't run to the door when I come home from the dentist.

One day they won't call "mama" when they wake at night after a bad dream. They'll shake it off and roll over and fall back asleep.

One day I won't be able to pick them up...they will be too heavy or too embarrassed, or it just won't feel right anymore.

Today they fit into my arms so perfectly. My husband and I scoop them up and kiss their cheeks, which are still so round and childish.

But one day they won't fit so effortlessly.

There will be an awkward adjustment of limbs when they climb onto our laps for a story, our legs will get pins and needles beneath their weight, but we won't say anything because we will know that the time is drawing near where they won't want to sit on a lap during storytime...

One day I will reach to brush a flyaway hair from my son's face and he will beat me to It.

One day, we won't go into their room and watch the rise and fall of their little chests, silhouettes in their nightlight, making sure they're okay before we go to sleep ourselves.

One day we will have to decide if we should turn their room into a guest room or an office...or leave it, so whenever they come visit, it's there, just as it's always been.

One day, maybe we will play bridge or bingo on Thursdays, instead of taking the kids to swim class.

One day my back will be sore because of all the years I had a child in my arms.

One day we will buy less groceries.

And answer less questions, do less laundry, watch less Disney, and take longer showers and phone calls-with less interruptions, we will break up less arguments and sing less nursery rhymes.

One day, today will be a distant memory. Maybe we will remember how much the baby laughed tonight. Maybe we will remember that on this day our middle child started pronouncing the "L" sound correctly and that our oldest can't decide if he would rather be a policeman or an astronaut, or...

Maybe it will be a blur. A blur of memories, laughter, tears, milestones, adventures, learning, growth, love...

One day, it won't be today. One day my husband and I will have nobody else's teeth to brush. Nobody who needs a story read to them or a glass of water refilled. One day he and I will sit side by side and say "remember that time" and "those were the days" and "I miss that..." and "it went by so fast..."
we will hold hands and laugh and probably even cry too, kinda happy and kinda sad because these are the best days, and one day we won't have little ones anymore.

And

These days, full of laugher and love, and chubby arms around our necks, and veggies that sit untasted, and mud from forbidden shoes in the house and toys on the floor and silly songs and rhyming words and superheroes and stained clothing and spilled milk and kisses on hurts and tangled hair and splinters in feet...

These days will be photos in albums and fond memories. Gratefulness and nostalgia and reminiscence and love that never stops growing. We will wrap in a hug and look at the stars and start a conversation of Remember When's, because these are the best days."





Submitted by B. Ashtyn Moyle


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580 views Dec 6
anonymous
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