Remembering

Sometimes being a mom is hard. Like, for example, at five in the morning when your baby awakes for the second time in the same two-hour period (or so it seems, for time - as well as perspective - is blurred at such an early hour).

I change another diaper as Little Miss fusses and whines loudly. "Shhh, don't wake up the whole house, Sweet Pea." (You see, we are staying at Nana's for spring break.) I nurse her again to quiet her. As Daddy stirs, I whine and fuss a bit myself, but he quickly rolls over and goes back to sleep (as daddies often do).

I start to grumble as Little Miss starts to fill her diaper again; but then I stop myself short, and remember. You see, at an early hour such as this, it's easy to forget. So as I hold my little sweetheart with her happy little 5 a.m. smile, and as I listen to my four-year-old utter a sweet prayer that he won't have scary dreams, I remember. I remember why I love my babies so. I remember the joy I feel when I see these little smiling faces (especially during daylight hours). I remember what a privilege it is to be their mama.