They Overflow

It is the small things that sometimes make me stop and watch. Things that most of those who grew up in a typical, healthy family would not notice as beautiful. Maybe they do. I hope they do.

Today, I saw my two little girls heads. They match. Their hair. The color. The highlights, the lowlights, the way it swings this way and that.

Their feet. The color of the bottoms of their feet. The way their nails grow on their toes.

The way they sit so close to each other. If I sat that close to someone at a gathering I'd be imposing on someone's personal space. But these two, they share their space. They are almost sitting on top of each other.

My older two, they're just stretched out, darker versions of the little ones. The little ones will someday have their darker blue eyes. Their hair will be one shade darker as well. Their voices already copy the older ones'. The way they say something emphatically. The way they lecture each other. The way they express their joy.

They overflow.

I know they are individuals. No need for a reminder. Their uniqueness is very clear. And just as mystifying. I guess when I had children, and not having siblings of my own, I assumed that they would all be various versions of each other. The same temperament. Similar desires. A relatively equal level of social comfort. No.

They are as different as the four seasons.

But, still, they overflow.

It's so beautiful to have a sibling. Be thankful if you have one.  It is a beautiful thing to have someone with your same make-up, your same childhood, your same memories. I have just recently begun to feel a gap there. Maybe it is in getting older, having parents get older, having children without an aunt or uncle (on my side, at least) to jockey back and forth with. "Remember when we were little and got in so much trouble..."  "Ask Uncle John about the time grandpa..."

I feel an overwhelming responsibility to get it all down. To get it all right for my next generation. It's like the funnel got too narrow. I am a very narrow spout.  I feel that I can't absorb everything. There should be some other people with me on this. A brother (I've always felt I should have a brother) or a sister that could share the responsibility, memories, and the joy.

But, I am so very thankful for what I have been given. For this chance to see these four grow up together. To fight, to play, to love and hopefully, someday, to be friends.

I hope they will forever overflow.

These small people

I marvel at my children.

These small people that came from me. And my husband.
Day by day I go on, feeding them, clothing them, wiping up their messes, putting away their things, washing their clothes. On and on.

It's so easy to look past the amazement
that God wants me to see.

To look at the face of your child and see a bit of you and a bit of him.

The way my daugther's sense of humor is just as witty and biting has my husbands can be.
How she could care less about historical fiction and runs to fantasy. Just like dad.
She whispers her greatest fears to her daddy late at night when he snuggles her in bed. Just like me. 
The way my son refuses to watch someone else brush their teeth, because "it makes his stomach feel weird". Just like his father. (I had always dreamed of brushing teeth with my husband before bed. Never.)
How he has not just one, but two cowlicks on the top of his head. He and his father challenge hairdressers.
How they both love to conduct music blasting from the stereo. 
The way he writes his letters from the bottom up. Just like his dad.
My 5 year old has my freckled nose and my oldest has my ears that make her look like an elf. 
My son befriends the kid who has no friends, because he can just imagine how he feels. My friend-less friend in 3rd grade was named Abra.

I love them with my whole self. They amaze me. I want to know them as adults. See who they marry. What job they will hold. If they will love God. If they will think well of me or just remember my many mistakes. I hope they will remember my love for them. That they are amazing and wonderful. That they are a little bit of me and a little bit of him.