It Was One of Those Nights

I just ate some cake. I wish I could say that I sliced a ladylike sized piece, and sat down with my cake and a glass of milk, but that is sadly, not the case. After the kidlets were tucked in bed and breathing deep breaths of restful sleep, I, with fork in hand, helped myself to what was left of Roo's (early) birthday cake. I ate until my tummy hurt, and then I drank milk (Bug's 2%, not the nonfat that I buy for myself) straight from the jug. It was not my proudest moment (or collection of moments), but it happened nonetheless.
I started to think, after the cake massacre, about the funk I am in...before Roo was born, I worried I'd love her enough. I loved Bug so much, and how could I ever love another being as much as I do, him? Then Roo was born, and the love was immeasurable. I worried I'd still be able to show Bug how much I loved him, while caring for a brand new baby.
Now the babies are getting older, and I know that I will never have to worry whether I love one child enough, or as much as the other. My heart aches when I think about how my life has changed over the past two and half years. I never knew I was capable of such a love, until becoming a mother.
My own mother, whom I love very much, recently advised me to not let being a mother define who I was as an individual. But it does define me. I am a mother. I'm Mama. I'm cuddles all night long. I'm bath-time with music. I'm playtime in the front yard and fort-building in the living room. I'm breasts full of milk, and kisses on ouchies. I'm a mother, and being beckoned by tiny cries at the moment. "Mama" does define me.
Even if that means the occasional cake-and-milk the unladylike way.

It Was A Good Night

Last Saturday the babies fought their sleep, and Bug was up until almost 11:00. After he finally crashed, Mark and I were still hungry and decided there was no better time than the present to make waffles. I bet I know what you're thinking. "The kids (both under 3 years old) are asleep, and you're not going to cash in on some sleep, yourselves?!" But they were just frozen waffles-I now, we lead a luxurious life-so we threw them in the oven, and whispered in the kitchen while we waited for our Kirkland delicacies to crisp up. 

Once we'd plated our fourthmeal (thanks Taco Bell, for that gem), Roo was awake, so rather than rock her back to sleep, I sat her in her high chair. I tore up some tiny bits of waffle and she enjoyed exploring their texture, and taking a few tastes. 
I love my daughter with my whole heart. The way that she looks at me is enough to make me cry. Heck, I might cry just thinking about it. But the way she stared at Mark while we ate was the most perfect picture of love I could ever have imagined. I can't describe it, but if you have a child of your own, then you might know. And if you don't have children, then I can tell you that it was a look that not only said I love you, but, I admire you, I think you're funny, I want you to hold me, and pat my back, make me laugh and laugh when I spit food onto your work shirt, and I think I want to bite you...

After an exhausting day, as most days are when you have small children, I felt whole. Bug made me not just a mommy, but Mama, and Roo is the daughter I always knew I'd have someday. I wasn't upset that I didn't get the laundry from the washer into the dryer (which meant it needed to be washed again), or disappointed that I didn't get to run the errands I had planned, and I wasn't even phased by the fact that there was a 62% chance that the stain on my sleeve was poop. 

The look she gave him, changed *my* outlook. I've heard that you spend your life teaching your children about life, and really they are the ones that teach us what life is all about. It's true.