Remember the days when I had one toddler and one baby, and I lamented being trapped by naps and taking turns with each child, entertaining the toddler in the morning and the baby in the afternoon? I remember being utterly exhausted at the end of each of those days.
I am reliving it today, as the boys went up into the mountains with Brian for the day and I am home with the two littlest ones. It has been glorious. Emmy and I read books and swept the floor and sat out back and made cupcakes. I was able to just talk to her. I could watch her play and even respond to misbehavior without once being interrupted or sidetracked.
There were even forty minutes when both babies were asleep and I had time, glorious whole minutes when nobody needed a drink or asked me for anything.
Now the baby is keeping me company in his bumbo seat while I work in the kitchen. My house is unimaginably quiet and the sunlight is streaming through the windows. And for today, this life is perfect.
But I miss the boys.
And it makes me appreciate my life now more. Back then I honestly thought there had been some mistake. There was no way I could adequately love and nurture two babies at the same time. Now I know better. I can do this, and I do, every single day. And some day - probably when they are 14, 13, 11, and 9 - I will stop and think, remember when they were all little? Remember when my biggest concerns for them were how to keep Emmy out of the dog food and how to tear the boys away from Legos long enough to do a few minutes of school? Remember when all I had to do was read to them and nurse the baby?
Some day, this moment will feel simple too.