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It's hard sometimes....

When my two year had given me an especially difficult time, I would go into her room at night and sit on her bed. As I brusehd her honey blond hair from her eyes I would silently cry to myself.

'I love you so much' I would repeat over and over and over and over to myself, wondering why things had to be so difficult during the day. My heart would remember all the reasons why I loved her---and would continue to love her no matter what--despire the bruising it would take during the day. She was, after all, just two and it was my job to help her understand how to be a better little person.

Now they're older...much, much older and I can't sit on their beds at night and brush their hair from their faces. My heart has been bruised and even broken and the tears wrung from my eyes could fill an ocean it seems.

No one told me when I brought those amazingling small and sweet smelling bundles home from the hospital that their births would be the least painful thing they could inflict upon me.


  1. I know what you mean. The choices they make and the paths they lead bring so much heart ache. I'm sorry for the pain you are experiencing...everyone says it gets better, but I haven't seen it yet. There is only hope and prayer -- that's the life line I hang onto.

  2. You can still go into their rooms at night..
    with scissors!

    Just remember that some day in the not so distant future they will be begging Grandma for help.

  3. Makes my heart hurt thinking about it.

  4. G. I know you understand.

    Donn---I'm out of scissors, may I borrow yours?

    Paige....hold your littles ones as tight as you can. Blink and they'll be teenagers intent on ripping your soul right out of you. Or that could just be mine.


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