We were at the park yesterday until after the sun had set. The temperature quickly dropped much cooler than our shorts and t-shirts could keep up with. Just as I was about to give the “five more minutes” announcement, my daughter belly flopped off the swing, leaving a large bloody knee and a cry like the world had just ended. I was trying to get us back to the bike to head home but she refused to be put down, and Pierce is the slowest mover ever when we wants to be. He was taking his own sweet time, stopping every few feet it seemed.

We were almost to the bike when he stopped by a row of flower bushes. He stayed there for a long time as Boston and I waited for him to finish his exploration.

Finally, he stood straight up and came running fast to me, a wad of flower petals in his hand, “You, momma! Happy momma! Happy momma!” 

I felt my heart pour out onto those crumpled petals and fell in love with my sweet boy all over again.

I fall in love often. In the little, seemingly insignificant things of each day that pull at my heartstrings and remind me I am the luckiest person alive.

It is in the way Boston started giving me her big thumbs up sign whenever she is excited. Or watching Pierce take on his more recent role of “class clown.”

It is when the three of us hold hands to run across the street. Or all sit around their little blue IKEA table for lunch. It is laying in bed with them each night, and no matter what that day entailed, hearing them whisper to me, “Love you, momma.” 

It is the little things. The moments that would mean nothing to anyone else.

But they are our moments. And each of these little acts remind me once again that there is nothing greater in life than being here with them. To see their sweet face each morning. To hear their whisper each night.

I give my life for them. But they are the ones who give me the world.