So this restaurant stinks...and i mean in the somebody-needs-to bleach-the-mop-bucket kinda way...

I am officially the momma of two teenage sons.  I look at pictures of myself and don't see a mom of two teenagers, yet the aches, pains, and effort to get out of bed in the morning remind me of EXACTLY how old I am. 

I remember every tiny toe, the teething, middle-of-the-night feedings, exploding diapers, and ouchies that were healed with momma's kiss.  I wish I had savored every second with a memory like it was the last moment I would ever remember.  Somehow I spent those moments wishing they would be over with. I hate that I wanted the dirty diapers to end and the crying to stop, that I was missing out on "real life" being trapped in a house without adult conversation.  What I would give to have it all back.  I would give the use of my arms and legs to be covered in baby drool, to play in the sandbox, to read dr. suess a hundred times.  To warm baby food, sterilize bottles, push a stroller, and struggle to get out of the house without forgetting to pack some essential item, like pampers.  I would be forever single just to hear my babies cry for mom over a scraped knee, or bumped head.  Why was I too miserable to enjoy it???  Now those days are a memory in a crate full of photo albums, and my sons lay their heads down at night in a home without me...

I can't take it back, or start over, or do it right.

I can only cherish today, like it is the last day I'll ever live.

Momma loves you Elijah and Adrian.