One of the most lovely, (bitter) sweet daily by products of parenting happens after the kids fall asleep at night. When I sit there and watch the rise and fall of their chests and listen to their sighs and breathing and feel the day's running around and chaos and mess and frustrations get farther away. Dimmer. They don't disappear. But the edges feel somehow softened, less intense. And I hope against hope that tomorrow I will do better. Be more patient. Take more time. Be as close to the mama they deserve as I can.
Because their little sweet sleeping selves are the most perfect things that have ever graced my imperfect life.
Never fails. Gets me every time.