Once upon a time, I thought I didn’t want kids.  I thought I was too selfish.  Then, I saw a tiny plus sign, on a stick, that I peed on.  The moment that little plus sign appeared, I had been changed.  It’s cliche, I know it is, but it is the honest truth.

My days have been spent filled with the singing of silly cartoon songs, Star Wars characters, arts and crafts, reading the same book tens of thousands of times.  There have been days of spit up, colic, screaming, hair pulling (this one is me), and utter exhaustion.  My nights have been full of interrupted sleep, no sleep, crying (me, again), frustrations, and wine.

In addition to all of those horrendous adjectives, I have been blessed to raise these two amazing human beings.  These kids… My kids… The children that I carried in my womb, I made with my husband’s DNA mixed with mine, these miracles…  They make me smile, they make me live, they are the reason that I run myself ragged.

I recently started back to work and I miss those songs, those moments that are so mundane when you are in them and so amazingly momentous when you don’t get them every day.  Somehow, I miss the incessant repeating myself, potty training, and sibling fights.

I don’t know if I will ever get used to 50 hours of my week spent away from my babies, but I do know that I will savor every second of the limited minutes I spend with my little devil angels. I am so lucky.

I know that every mom thinks they have the best kid, but they are wrong. I am sorry, but the truth hurts. I have the best kids. Me.  I hot the jackpot- TWICE.