Perhaps it's the way with all children but I'm not the Mother to all children so I don't know for sure.
What do know best is what I love the most about my children.
I love the way they burst out the door in the morning on the way to school or on a lazy Sunday with a, "It's a Sunny Day!"
I love the way they point out to me the beautiful pink streaks in the sunset come evening.
I love when we look out the window when the night falls dim and they begin to point out the first bright stars in dark sky of the night.
I love when my littlest stomps in puddles.
When he stops to pick up every ladybug, potato bug and worm and handles them with such gentleness it almost breaks my heart.
I love the way my eldest has boundless energy and typically runs full speed ahead but will stop every once in a while to notice the bright berries on a bush, a beautifully turned fallen leaf or to smell the giant lilac bush on the corner.
I love that they know how to treat Mother Earth. How they pick up litter, know how to compost and recycle. I love that they grasp what's wasteful, harmful and what doing good for others means.
I love listening to them sing the songs they've learned during their morning in school. Even when they don't know I'm listening.
I love it when they want to show me the actions to a song from school and I sit down cross legged in front of them, chin tilted up with a smile on my face and in my eyes hoping they can see how much I take joy watching them.
I love watching their faces in full concentration, my eldest mouth slightly open, small brow furrowed, my littlest with his lips pouted akin to mine, when writing their name, building a tower or learning to read a word. I especially love the look of satisfaction and pride when they've completed each task.
I love watching them with their friends, hearing their conversations, their wide open laughter and simply seeing how much fun they're having. Just. Being. Them.
I hope they always know how simply rad they are. Just being who they are. Loving their life.
Loving the world around them.
I hope they know how incredibly much they are loved. By me, their father, their grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, friends.
And even though I must tell them I love them a dozen times a day. I hope I show them enough. My theory in life is one certainly can never have too many snuggles and smooches.
Or blankets and books for that matter.
I hope they grow up to know that words are lovely and useful but it's your actions and they way you make people feel that really matter. That love is love, people are human, being kind is being a loving human. And there can never be too many of those either.
I hope that one day I will know I have done enough. That I've been enough.
But I also hope it's okay to feel that one never, ever does feel that way.
Because what does that even mean. Anyway?