how to be a mom

I am only 32 years old. I know, to my children, that is old. One day though, 32 won’t be old. I will fondly look back upon it as my “youth.” I still have a lot to do, a lot to see, and a lot to achieve. I want to be a writer. I want to give people all of these random thoughts in my head. I want them to laugh and cry and think, as much as I do when I write them down. I want to sleep in. I want to hop in the car and visit my grandma Eichem. I want to runaway with my husband and laugh, and talk, and sleep, and date. I want to do all the things we never got a chance to do, because we were parents before we were even newlyweds. I don’t have a plan. I don’t have a path. I don’t know what to do with the time I have. So my plan now is to make a plan.

Right now as I am typing the babies are finally asleep. Ryan is hidden under my quilt playing with my feet. Talking. Wrapping his fingers in between my toes. Humming with his binky in his mouth. They always have to be touching me. It can get claustrophobic sometimes, all the touching.