For Christmas my sister gave me a tshirt. The shirt said “Yes, they are all mine.”
When I have all of my adorable, snot nosed, shoeless kids with me I get the best comments. Comments and questions from people that don’t even think before they say something. “You know how this happens right?” “I suppose my taxes are paying for each one?” “You know the world is already overpopulated” “Do they all have the same baby daddy?” For reals. None of which is their business. My favorite of all time is, “You’ve got your hands full there!”
Yes, yes I do.
They are full of vomit sometimes from a sick child that couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time looking at me with sad eyes. They are full of band aid wrappers from kissing and healing skinned knees. They are full of bread crumbs wiped off the counter after a toddler tried to make their own sandwich, full of snotty Kleenex from runny sick noses. They are very full of crumbled up papers pulled from the bottom of my son’s backpack. My hands are full from clearing garbage out of the disgusting mini van after a trip to see a historical site to teach them about their world. The fullness of my hands comes in the form of grocery bags filled with bananas and their favorite string cheese. Oh my hands are super full on reward day of Circle K slushies after a hard days work out in the yard pulling weeds. My hands are very full of little fingers as I teach to swim and they are full of piles and piles of never ending laundry. It really never ends. My hands are the fullest of full.
Do you know what else is full?
My heart is bursting at the seams with pride at my kind, sweet hearted children. The joy that they radiate to not only me, but those around them is unmatchable. I cannot imagine anything better to fill my hands with.
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My full heart
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