Today the morning found me groggy, tired, and weak, still feeling the pangs of another sinus infection.
Bleary-eyed, I tumbled out of bed to the shower after a night waking every two hours because a sweet baby wanted her mama.
In the mad rush of leaving for the day, Brown Baby clung to my hip, leaving my arm burning from her weight and my heart heavy with our impending separation.
The boy-os argued over DS games, excitedly preparing for their day off of school tomorrow.
Brown Baby planked when I tried to put her in her car seat, screamed in protest to the start of our day, looked pleadingly at me as I buckled her in.
I closed her door and leaned against the car, seeking a quick moment, a quiet reprieve from so much activity so early in the morning. My breath hung stubbornly in the cold, morning air. Its persistence reminded me that to breathe, to be alive, to wake to three healthy children in the morning demanded that I love these moments of frenzied activity, to be present with them all, to know that each of these moments are wonderful, are a precious privilege.