hit

As I clear the table in my dining room, listening to my husband, and navigate my way through my three children to the sink in my kitchen in my house, it hits me.

I'm living the dream.

Do we often realize in our daily drudgery that we're living exactly what we want?

I'll admit, cleaning up puke and diapers wasn't really the part of that dream that I imagined in such vivid detail as I live it each day, but I still wouldn't trade it.

I wait for my husband to come home, glad that he has a job, glad that he works so hard so I can stay home and... listen to my daughter learn to read, my son learn to talk, and my baby learn to sing. I watch my daughter dance, my son play trains, and my baby pick up a ball.

The more people I meet the more mothers I find working out of the home. For whatever reason they do, I find myself being grateful that I don't. I have my little business ventures but whatever I do is a side to my main job here at home with these precious people.

Today as Zurich puked on my lap, on my last clean pair of jeans, I just shrugged and changed into shorts, who cares right? It's warm in my house. Thank goodness. And I get to "carry you" and kiss his hot little head and brush his lil locks away from his forehead.