The Younger Set

These two.

The ones who have a sixth sense of whenever this tired Mama sits down during the day for a bit of rest and almost immediately swarm my lap, him running his matchbox car along the "road" of my arm, her clutching her ever present baby doll under one arm, singing some nonsense song. She writes in her sister's math book when no one's looking, and sometimes on my wall. He wears his spider man costume every.day.

Two toddlers in this busy house. It's happened before, but not like this. I'm a different mom today than I was with my first set of close(r) in age siblings. The atmosphere here is different - these two surrounded every day by four older siblings who dote on their every movement. I'm busier than I was then and yet, I'm making more time to enjoy them.

They are exhausting. They are loud. They are bossy, insistent, sweet and hilarious. They fight fiercely and forgive quickly. This little pair, they exude confidence in every moment, absolutely sure that they are loved and cared for by the older six people in their lives. He was a later talker, she a bit early, so they are almost perfectly matched verbally. Two little pals, partnered in every crime and game and grand scheme.

I've softened on toddlers. I pushed my big kids to be big. When Ben was merely three, he had two younger siblings and I required much of him. I still do. These days, I'm letting babies be babies. I'm giving grace to small people with big feelings and helping them find the tools to process them. I'm enjoying their sweet faces and basking in how they just want to be close to me. I've seen how quickly this goes and I'm fighting the urge to rush them on when I'm tired and spent.

They entwine themselves into my day, on my hip while making dinner, wrapped around my legs while I teach the older kids, "helping" with all my daily tasks. Underfoot, always.

Someday they won't be, and the laundry piles won't be toppled when I turn my back and the sink won't be overflowed in some grand experiment and I won't find a lego in the bottom of my coffee cup. Someday I'll sit quietly on the couch and no one will ask for a drink or a book or to use my legs as a bridge for trains.

But today, they are. They do. And today, I love it.

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