This.

Sometimes, after a long day of staying at home, I reflect back and realize that I will.miss.this. To me, what is "this"? Let me define, in my own world, what "this" is to me.

"This". Sigh. "This" is time we won't get back. Life does this to us. But these are magical years that mold little precious lives into grown adults. Working or staying at home, as I've lived both, time with our children is precious and fleeting. Yet, often I find myself blissfully, and sometimes painfully, unaware of the time that is slipping past me. Time that often I need to speed up only to hope that my children's growth will slow down. "This" is having laundry piled up and dishes in the sink sprinkled with toothbrushes and soccer cleats on the bathroom floor. Yet finding special time because reading books and having time for duck, duck goose before bed makes our girls' happy. "This" is wearing princess dresses to get donuts and having a dance performance before bedtime. "This" is telling me exactly "what happened at school today" and all about new friendships made. "This" is crying because feelings are hurt and a band aid or kiss is needed. "This: is wondering how money will stretch to the next month but finding a way to pay for class pictures and birthday parties. Or running out of money because of those parties. "This" is watching children cry as you leave them at school only to mold them into smiling and waving you off to leave. "This" is forgetting to respond to emails or phone calls from friends and realizing that's why we're friends; they understand. "This" is rolling out of bed to get Laney to school on time and back home to nurse a newborn. "This" is signing up for homeroom mom because as busy as life is, I can't ever spend too much time with each girl. "This" is continuing my education at 34 because, regardless of opinions, I know that someday my girls' will know the importance of educating their mind, no matter the circumstance, from the example I set. "This" is crying near two other meltdowns in a parking lot because you can't seem to find the car keys to unload the groceries with a screaming baby. "This" is trying to do it all because I've realized that my children's happiness comes before my own. "This" is forgetting what it is like to really sleep through the night. "This" is laughing so hard your stomach hurts because your child finds something hysterical so you do too. "This" is seeing slow motion accidents happen and wishing you could catch them every time. "This" is listening to your child read and stumble and sound out and slowly learn the words on the pages. "This" is knowing it won't last forever and still wishing we could pause time. "This" is many more things that I hope to tuck away in my mind and remember.

The wonderfully hard role of being a mother; I can't put precisely into words. It's the hardest, most fulfilling, unpaid, and often unappreciated role in the entire world. And it's a job I'd take over any other because it comes with a love beyond one I'd ever imagined.

This is simply our precious, and imperfect, life.