After nearly three years of caring for twin girls, it finally hit me. Something just clicked tonight as I was standing at the kitchen sink, cleaning up after another long day. My days are undoubtedly filled with lots of whining, crying, mess-cleaning, and yes, seemingly endless pooping, but they are some of the best of my life. And, even though there are moments when I want to bolt for the front door, screaming like my ass is on fire, I don't want to stay gone for too long.
If I have learned anything as a mother, it's that everything is temporary. All the bad phases, all the good ones for that matter, they all pass. I have let too many days go by without chronicling them in any meaningful way. Sure, I remember the really good ones, and even some of the epically bad ones, but I want to remember them all. Because, even when I am in the thick of the biggest shitstorm my house has ever seen, I know I'm gonna miss this one day.
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