Eight Is Not Enough

73 Weeks

We sat in my sister-in-law's hospital room while she pulled her clingy two year old Emma Marie onto the bed, watched her screaming one year old Joseph Anthony from the back of her head, and fed her day old Francis Terry laying peacefully in her arms. I remember I once complained to her about being sleepy after our Ren Thomas was born. I go back in time and slap my face in that moment whenever I see her now. She still manages to host the entire family at Christmas and Easter. And she doesn't serve drive-thru. She's amazing. I know families have been doing life like this for years, before things like running water and organic salsa, but I'm Gen X. I grew up thinking the microwave was taking too long. I guess I still feel like an imposter mom. I'm still me you see. I still stay up past bedtime to write blogs no one will read. (Except you, Daddy, and you, person that is very sweet for putting my sequence of words in your brain. Thank you.) If we had more children, blogs wouldn't happen. Or if we did, we'd have to join a nudist colony because no laundry would happen. (I think I may have just invented a new kind of Manhattan real estate demographic. "No closet? No matter!") Here's to all of the moms of many in this world. I've seen first hand the power of love and while I am a part of the club, I'm still amazed by moms. (Thanks to you too, My Moms.)