Loving my little men

*** To all my infertility friends, this post, is quite motherhood intensive. Feel free to skip it and come back tomorrow. I would never want to hurt any of you travelling this road. ***

I’m sitting outside on our front porch while I write this. It’s the middle of the afternoon, and we are outside. The weather is still hot, but each day we see the end that everyone has been promising. Cooler temperatures seem to creep in each day. We eat dinner a few times a week on the back patio. The boys play often in the front yard. In the back yard. In between the two yards. Each offers different excitement and opportunities for boys to be boys. A pool. A slide. Bikes. Cars. Trucks.

My house has become the sort of toy store that both JB and I swore to each other we will never have. My only comfort is the fact that none of these toys are things I have bought -- at least not without a huge discount second-hand.

We have more than enough big cars for the boys to play with, due to my propensity for finding a bargain in the next door neighbor’s garbage or at the local thrift store. And yet, I just took a two minute break from writing this to deal with a fight that had broken out over one particular car that is an exact duplicate, minus the color, of one that sits next to it. Isaac is in it. Elijah wants it. Elijah won’t leave Isaac alone. Isaac pushes him and screams, “Leave me be Ewijah!”

"Ewijah" screams back and begins yelling the few words he knows. "Car! Momma!" And in between his screams he's signing with intense fury.

Each day as a mother of two nearly-twin-boys offers new excitement, challenges, delights, stressors, lessons, frustrations, and huge smiles. A quick look into our day-to-day existence would present a visitor with glimpses of two diaper-clad toddlers chasing each other around the loop between our hallway and kitchen. The next moment you will find a fight has broken out over one matchbox car that has suddenly become integrally important to each of the very existences despite the fact that there are well over a hundred tiny cars lining drawers in our home with only slight variations apparent.

A few seconds later, double-dirty-diapers are the item of the moment. These become compounded by the fact that leaving toys behind for a fresh bottom creates extreme anxiety. “Ewijah will get that Mommy!” Isaac yells. “Don’t wet him take it.” And then the next all-important question. Will I or will I not use cream. "Just use a wittle cweam Mommy," Isaac says. And Elijah will simply sign "All done" before the cream can come out. Desitin is the only cream we seem to see success with and it stings a bit.

I love being a Mom. And I love the fact that I have two children. And two boys at that. I find myself actually contemplating the boredom that would ensue if they didn't have each other. They belong together. As if they were twins born in one womb, I believe God destined them to grow along side one another. They learn together. They play together. They cry together. They fight together.

And they nestle themselves, each day, even the bad days, somehow, even deeper in the recesses of my heart. Of John's heart.

Love of children is so very different than that of a spouse. My love for JB is born of selfish desires. I am often looking to him for what I can get in return. But my love for my boys is completely selfless. Some days, there is very little in return to be gotten. And yet, even if I was to never receive anything in return, I'd get up each morning, well before I was ready to, and love them. And serve them. And pray for them. And try my best to help mold them into the men I hope they will one day become.

Of my womb. And not. And forever entwined into every fiber of my being.