My kids make their own waffles and smear peanut butter all over the counter. And they never clean it up when they're done, either.
My kids climb trees in our backyard.
Then come in crying when they get a scratch.
My kids make huge messes. Especially in their rooms.
My kids track mud all through the house. I honestly believe they have no idea what a doormat is for.
My kids do not want me to come with them to the bus stop. They want to do it all by themselves.
But they do require that I stand at the window and wave as the bus passes.
My kids currently do cub scouts, swimming, baseball, and ballet.
My kids whine when they have too much homework.
My kids splash water all over the floor when they're in the tub.
My kids grow out of their clothes faster than I can keep up with.
My kids crave sweets, sugar, suckers, and gum. And they get it more than they should.
My kids tell the dumbest knock-knock jokes.
My kids fight with each other.
They absolutely detest running errands, unless it's to Target, and then they beg and whine to go down the toy aisles.
My boys love Star Wars, Indiana Jones, and World War II.
My girl loves dress-ups, dolls, and High School Musical.
My kids color with markers that sometimes leak onto my desk.
My kids break expensive electronic things.
My kids wear holes in their jeans faster than ice cream melts.
My kids cannot fall asleep without a kiss and a hug from me.
This morning, my mind and heart is full of all the things my kids can do. We made our semi-annual trip to Children's Hospital for McKay's asthma and allergy check-up.
And as we sat in the shared waiting room, I couldn't help but look around at the other kids. Many were in wheelchairs with contorted, mangled limbs. Many were there getting their heart checked, because the core of their body just doesn't work like it should. A few were bald, with patchy tufts of hair the only remnant of what they looked like before the cancer reared its ugly head. Some smiled. Some looked sad. Some didn't look like they knew where they were at all.
And I have never in my life been more thankful for what we don't have.
So today, I will clean up that peanut butter. I will wipe the marker off my white desk. I will hug them when they slip and fall. I will probably still get mad at the mud they track through the house. But I am eternally grateful for all the annoying, physical, happy, healthy, busy things my kids can do.
And my heart just aches for the moms who have kids that can't.