Miracle: an effect or extraordinary event in the physical world that surpasses all known human or natural powers and is ascribed to a supernatural cause.
What better way to describe my children? Both during pregnancy and after birth, it's been nothing but one amazement after another.
At times, I ask myself: Are my days too monotonous? What is there about staying at home with two kids-- two NEEDY kids, at that-- that should make my life feel fulfilled? But, my days are NOT monotonous. In fact, they are quite the opposite.
Who would've known?
Ethan, at almost 2 1/2, does and says at LEAST twenty funny and amazing things a day. He likes to look at the bright side of things. He woke up from his nap today, having wet through his diaper and onto his sheet, looks at the wet spot, and gleefully declares, "I make a CIRCLE!" He also thinks he can do anything and is all powerful, too. He tells the sun, shining on him through the blinds during breakfast, "No, sun. No. Go, sun. Go." I came in the room the other day, after his nap, and he exclaims, "Happy Valentimes!" He has no need for Kleenex, as his snake-like tongue always does the trick, yet his hands can never, ever be dirty. And those are just a few things.
And then, there's my baby Logan, now 8-months old, who sounds like a pterodactyl when he nurses (you don't know what they sound like?-- well, I do!), prefers graham crackers to any other food, and must be fully undressed before he eats, as it is the most sensible way to feed such a messy, messy child. He's had an extreme temper since at least 4-months of age, and he will crawl to me-- bawling as though the world has ended-- if I don't pick him up fast enough. He learned at 6-months old that if he splashes at a toy in the bathtub long enough, it will eventually come to him; that way, he does not need to waste any energy crawling the 3 inches forward to get it.
How are these not amazing beings? They are! And, I am their mother! I could never, ever feel an ounce of boredom with these two as my children. I often still marvel that I am even a mother at all. Did I really go through two (agonizing!) pregnancies, two births, with two little miracles as the result? I now understand why some people have seventeen children. My personal goal is not nearly so high, but I can understand it. My children are unique individuals, yet I love them both the same-- but for different reasons. They are my boys, my miracles.
