To say that I am fortunate is an understatement. So is saying that I’m madly in love with my husband. (Correction: We're madly in love with each other.) Truly, I have no words for what our love is or the value it has; it’s a “Damn, did you feel that?” kind of love. Love that reverberates in your soul, giving you chills and all the feels. We’ve shot pass the moon and the stars to a galaxy far away, with a love so deep, so pure and unconditional it seems like something straight out of a dream. Some days I find myself wondering if the love we share and the moments we have are really real-I pinch myself just for conformation and sure enough it hurts like hell, so yes, it’s safe to say this is real.
I have a loving and faithful husband who will do anything in the world for me. This I know for a fact. We’ve faced our challenges and conquered them all; always coming out unscathed and certainly unbothered.
From this love we’ve created two little ones who are spitting images of us. They’re perfect little packages and happen to come with bright smiles, big hearts, loving souls, corny knock-knock jokes, imaginations bigger than any ocean, intelligence and wisdom well beyond their ages, dashing good looks (here is where I take ALL the credit—haha) and limitless energy. With them, everyday is something new; you’ll never have the same day twice. They teach us bounds about ourselves, about love and life.
There are days though when the fairy tale we’re seemingly effortlessly writing suddenly turns into a fucking nightmare. On days like this I’m expecting Candy Man to appear at any moment. Let me tell you, living in a house with three men can be down right exhausting, to say the least. I’ll wake up to demands and propositions before I’ve had a chance to brush my teeth. Walk to the kitchen to find half-eaten dinner on plates from the night before, more glasses on the counter than at a bar, the food they hated-which is always the vegetables- gets left out on the stove and overflowing garbage cans. Then you have my absolute favorite; the bathroom. We won’t get too deep into the details, but know that no matter how old boys get, they never learn how to aim into the toilet.
There are tantrums and melt downs over iPads and PS4 controllers at least once a week. Husband included. It gets overwhelming for me being that having this life comes with needing to wear so many different hats; many times I have to switch hats without notice. In any given day I am mom, nurse, comforter, advisor, seamstress, chef, maid, lover, teacher and friend. There aren’t any sick days. I can’t call off or come in late. I can’t quit, and thankfully I can’t get fired. All we can do as a family is communicate and keep putting in the work that it takes to make a family work. I’m telling you, love --real love-- goes a long way.
At the end of those days that easily set the stage for your favorite homicidal maniac to appear, as exhausting as it can be for all of us, we choose love. We choose to love wholly and completely, without restrictions and conditions. We keep writing our fairy tale and keep transcending to a galaxy far away, creating a ground-shaking love that words just don’t do justice. We are learning together. We are growing together. I share a love with my very best friend and a bond with our children greater than most parents could ever hope for. For this, I am forever grateful.