I love it when they sometimes crawl into bed with me first thing in the morning, the smell of sleep still in their hair. They curl their warm, lazy bodies next to mine and together we talk and dream of what the day will hold.
I love it when they turn up the music loud and entice me away from the computer or the dishes to dance and sing with them at the top of my lungs. More often than not, it is music from my era, and part of my soul rejoices in knowing I have brainwashed them into loving the 80s.
I love it when they give me hugs. For no reason at all.
I love it when they surround me for a family movie night. Feet and legs tangled beneath blankets, we watch and laugh together. Popcorn or cookies are shared. It's times like this that I can even pretend I don't mind the crumbs.
I love it when I see that their pants are too short or notice wrists and forearms sticking awkwardly out of shirt sleeves because that means they have grown. And it makes me so happy when they do what they're supposed to.
I love it when they dance and laugh in the rain because daddy said yes after I said no.
I love it when they look me in the eye and ask my opinion on something because they think I'm an expert. Even when it's math that totally goes over my head.
I love it that they love me.
I love them with every particle of my being.
And every night when my head hits the pillow, I thank God for trusting me with these three perfect souls.
Happy mother's day, indeed.