OK, enough of me and my naked legs. (You'd be shocked at how often I don't wear publically required clothing Mel =p).
This week has been just like the others. Except not. I've been more tired and working longer hours (not fun) but the girls have been brilliant. Have I mentioned before how much I love and adore my offspring? I have 2 of the cutest, most lovable and most likeable children in the universe. I know this because even without my rose tinted parental goggles, I get external reinforcement to this constantly. They are sunshine.
The Elfing has been exceptionally well behaved in the last few weeks and is polite, sweet, emotional and sensitive. She is still very physically active, keeping her long thin frame pumping all day long, but prone to moments of introspection and thinking. She loves to sit and draw and to WRITE. She is fascinated with letters at the moment and how they form words. She has no interest in reading, but loves writing and the idea that if you write other people can understand your thoughts. She is getting better with her belongings (though we still can't find the blasted hat) and is coping with her relatively busy existence with aplomb. She is helpful and sweet and I love her to bits.
The Monkey is as mischievous as her name. She is sweet as honey but with a dash of spice mixed in. She has roguish brown eyes and is spontaneous and loving. When she overcomes her shyness in social situations she is the star in the middle, a tiny little firecracker of spirit and joyfulness. Her vocabulary is extraordinary and her imagination at not yet 2 and a half slays me. She is at times my sweet cheeked baby and loves to snuggle, and others my fearless little girl. She is extremely clever and manipulative, and we will need to watch that as she grows older but her spirit is intoxicating. She knows how to elicit a giggle when really a scold is called for, but somehow hearing her sing songs in the dark after lights out lifts my mood like no other.
I love my work, but truly it has nothing on my love for my children. I am trying to be the best mother to them that I can be, while not being the mother that society says I should be. I know they love me, but love is so easy to garner from babies. All they ask is affection and time. I wonder how we will go in later years, if they will resent my work and that I am not like other mothers. If they will be proud of me as I am them, or if they will feel ripped off to have been dealt this hand. I want them to know either way how much I love them, how much I believe in them and how I write this blog (so many of it selfish ramblings) for them.
My greatest fear that I can verbalise is dying now and leaving them. Of them never remembering me aside from a few photos in the background. Of never knowing how often I thought of them while at work. How I can't help but talk with pride about the fact that I am a mother, how much I spill at work when it's not necessary because I can't help but let people know about their surpassing gorgeousness. Of how every night before I can sleep I have to check on them, to check that they're breathing, because sometimes the gift that they give me seems far too precious to be entrusted to me. My whole world is my babies. I am so fiercely proud of them and our family.
They are my sunshine.