My three kidlets - they are my reason for being. But don't let that fool you into thinking that we are the Cleavers. Nope. That is far from the case, because my kids are Hard work (yes, with a capital 'H').They keep me on my toes. They keep my crafty - always needing to be one step ahead of them.
My kids are little sponges - always listening to the happenings around them, even when they're arguing with one another while stacking legos on the dining room table they somehow still manage to hear the four letter word I utter in the kitchen as I spill their lunch all over the floor.
My kids are slowpokes when I have a time constraint and speed-demons when I need them to wait up.
They can, at times, be destructive - managing to sink the unsinkable.
My children seem to only want my attention when I'm peeing, talking to my boss on the phone, or paying for my purchases in the check-out line.
They desperately need me to watch their "cool trick" when I'm digging for my keys in 100 degree heat or torrential downpours.
They are comedians and can make me laugh when my body is so tired that I want to cry.
My kids are loving and seem to have perfect timing when passing out hugs and kisses.
They are amazing little beings with so much energy that they make me tired by just looking at them.
My kids are smart and regularly have debates on the oddest topics. Today's debate: The difference between "Deaf" and "Death." Surprisingly, my four-year-old won.
My kids will scream at each other in one breath and giggle with one another in the next. They make the day longer, but brighter. They make my "alone time" next to nonexistent but not often missed. They make waking up in the morning pleasant, and going to sleep at night difficult.
My kids love to share our air-conditioning with the rest of the world and tote the cat around like a fashion accessory. They love family movie night and helping Daddy flip the burgers on the grill.
According to them they're never sleepy but can be caught rubbing their eyes and nodding off in the back seat on the ride home from the beach.
My kids keep my young - expecting me to follow them across the monkey bars and partake in their treasure hunts.
My kids have wonderful imaginations - turning the boys' bedroom into a forest and having endless adventures on their way to "animal kingdom."
They believe that sugar should be the the sixth food group and 'Danimals' should be dinner.
If my children ruled the world, nobody would go to bed voluntarily and every day would be the weekend, pancakes would be for breakfast each morning and we'd buy toys every time we went to the store.
If my kids had their way, they'd spend hours a day playing in the bath tub and would only get out when the water turned cold and their fingers turned to raisins.
Because of my kids, I clean my kitchen floor for at least twice a day and wipe dirty hands countless times a day.
My kids cause my heart to drop to my stomach when one of them is climbing up the ladder to the top bunk while another is climbing down the same ladder at the same time.
My kids are going to give me my first gray hair before I turn 30 - I can feel it.
My kids are the reason for everything good that I am.
My kids are constant entertainment. My kids say the damnedest things and they do it with a straight face.
My kids cause me to question whether or not the Earth is out of rotation when the day is going too smoothly, but then one of them drops his or her entire drink on the carpet, the dog and their self in one fell swoop and I'm reassured that the Earth is back on it's axis.
My kids unknowingly look to me to mold them into trustworthy, productive citizens that I can one day send out into the world with confidence.
My kids cause me to second guess myself and I wonder if things like making them finish all the food on their plate or making them go down an intimidating slide at the park will give them a 'complex' or 'issues' of some sort.
My kids are so much fun and some days they seem so easy to manage, but that's only because I've perfected the art of organized-chaos. And at the end of the day, when I'm finally alone with my thoughts, I think of what tomorrow will bring and of all the mayhem and shenanigans that will surely ensue - and I simply embrace it, because even though my kids are hard work, they are, without a doubt, worth the hard work.
My children seem to only want my attention when I'm peeing, talking to my boss on the phone, or paying for my purchases in the check-out line.
They desperately need me to watch their "cool trick" when I'm digging for my keys in 100 degree heat or torrential downpours.
They are comedians and can make me laugh when my body is so tired that I want to cry.
My kids are loving and seem to have perfect timing when passing out hugs and kisses.
They are amazing little beings with so much energy that they make me tired by just looking at them.
My kids are smart and regularly have debates on the oddest topics. Today's debate: The difference between "Deaf" and "Death." Surprisingly, my four-year-old won.
My kids will scream at each other in one breath and giggle with one another in the next. They make the day longer, but brighter. They make my "alone time" next to nonexistent but not often missed. They make waking up in the morning pleasant, and going to sleep at night difficult.
My kids love to share our air-conditioning with the rest of the world and tote the cat around like a fashion accessory. They love family movie night and helping Daddy flip the burgers on the grill.
According to them they're never sleepy but can be caught rubbing their eyes and nodding off in the back seat on the ride home from the beach.
My kids keep my young - expecting me to follow them across the monkey bars and partake in their treasure hunts.
My kids have wonderful imaginations - turning the boys' bedroom into a forest and having endless adventures on their way to "animal kingdom."
They believe that sugar should be the the sixth food group and 'Danimals' should be dinner.
If my children ruled the world, nobody would go to bed voluntarily and every day would be the weekend, pancakes would be for breakfast each morning and we'd buy toys every time we went to the store.
If my kids had their way, they'd spend hours a day playing in the bath tub and would only get out when the water turned cold and their fingers turned to raisins.
Because of my kids, I clean my kitchen floor for at least twice a day and wipe dirty hands countless times a day.
My kids cause my heart to drop to my stomach when one of them is climbing up the ladder to the top bunk while another is climbing down the same ladder at the same time.
My kids are going to give me my first gray hair before I turn 30 - I can feel it.
My kids are the reason for everything good that I am.
My kids are constant entertainment. My kids say the damnedest things and they do it with a straight face.
My kids cause me to question whether or not the Earth is out of rotation when the day is going too smoothly, but then one of them drops his or her entire drink on the carpet, the dog and their self in one fell swoop and I'm reassured that the Earth is back on it's axis.
My kids unknowingly look to me to mold them into trustworthy, productive citizens that I can one day send out into the world with confidence.
My kids cause me to second guess myself and I wonder if things like making them finish all the food on their plate or making them go down an intimidating slide at the park will give them a 'complex' or 'issues' of some sort.
My kids are so much fun and some days they seem so easy to manage, but that's only because I've perfected the art of organized-chaos. And at the end of the day, when I'm finally alone with my thoughts, I think of what tomorrow will bring and of all the mayhem and shenanigans that will surely ensue - and I simply embrace it, because even though my kids are hard work, they are, without a doubt, worth the hard work.
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