Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Sometimes my heart is so full for my kids. It's true; sappy and probably annoying to anyone who doesn't have kids, but true. Bear with me: Scott and I had a kid. Then two more. We are just two slightly normal human beings that happened to like each other and BAM (sorry for the caps), we have a family. Weird. Especially since having three kids together 100% was NOT in the plan. (Side note) I once had a romantically optimistic friend ask me, "How did you know Scott was the one?" Let. Me. Tell. You. The look of pure disappointment and confusion when I told her, "Well, the pregnancy test read positive" was priceless. I'm a truth teller. And that my romantic optimistic friend, is the truth.  But that truth, has been my positive. I sometimes feel guilty for wanting to talk about my kids or share stories about their awesomeness. I don't want to annoy people or be "that person", but truthfully, my kids are only 9, 6, and 4 once.They will be these exact ages for 6 months. They will be this person only for one day before they learn something new, grow a centimeter over night, and are one step closer to not wanting to give their mama a hug. It is my right as a mother to cherish every, single flippin' day of their existence. I will annoy them with questions, hugs, "I love yous", and my camera. I will spend hours editing my precious photos and writing ranting blog posts before ordering my photo books and checking on them before I go to bed. My kids are so very beautiful, so sweet, smart, and unique, but most importantly mine. I don't know how Scott and I, two people not looking to make children, made such sweet, unique kids, but we did. Our diverse backgrounds somehow convinced the universe that him and I, and three little people were a good idea. I'm thankful for that. And unfortunately as my FB friend or Instagram or Twitter follower, you're just going to have to deal with it, or delete me.

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