Today we woke up in messy, kid-packed cabins at preteen camp. Tonight we’ll sleep on our own ten year old mattress, wrapped up in our familiar way, sharing space, dreaming through another hot July night in the dream that is our life. It’s not perfect. But, it is ours, this everyday routine, and it is real. And it is love.
Tonight there were baths and vitamins and I brushed all the tiny teeth and all the too-big-for-little-mouths teeth, and I kissed freckled faces and got lots of hugs.
Tonight our three babies will breathe in and out all night right here under our roof. They will wake up tomorrow wishing for donuts and getting cereal instead. They will say that they want to go somewhere fun. Then they will spend the entire day having the time of their lives in the universes that they invent in every room of our house.
Tomorrow will be filled with laundry and washing the dog and grocery shopping. And, I’m thankful for the blessed sameness of it all. This routine is the heartbeat of my life. The rhythm of motherhood.
I dance to it every day. And, somehow, it never gets old.