Pictured above: All of our “special sticks” . . . you’ll see . . .

Here’s a little glimpse into this day and time as the mother of four, ages 7, 6, 2 and 9 months. I read this to my husband last night and he said, “that sounds like a horrible and wonderful place.” Writing this 6 months ago or 6 months from now would paint a different picture because of how quickly things change. And because of their age range (which some might argue isn’t that wide), they are into different things so we have quite the plethora of needs every day. Can you relate? . . .

In this season there are tiny underwear on the floor and crumbs in the bed. There are toys lining the hallway and toothpaste on the bathroom counter.

There’s the excitement and anticipation of morning. Fresh starts with well-rested babies. Attempts at snuggles that are all elbows and knees into ribs and faces. There are wet kisses and tiny arms, morning breath and blankies.

There’s a king size bed that isn’t big enough.

There are pancakes and smoothies, cereal and milk. There are 18 plates to be served everyday. Breakfast, lunch, dinner and OH! the snacks. There are lots of  “I’m starving” from very well fed people. There are pb&j’s, sweet potatoes and avocados; applesauce, juice boxes and is it happy hour yet?

There are carpools and guitar lessons, karate and nap time. There are play dates and birthday parties, parks and museums. There’s loading and unloading the car. Five trips back and forth for every outing. Diaper bag, extra snacks, baby dolls and coffee for mom. And where are the keys? THE KEYS? And MY PHONE? . . . oh, they’re in my pocket.

There are back seats covered in pretzels and gold fish and all the things we swore our children would never eat.

There’s a chore chart and time and patience to carry it out. There’s instruction on loading the dishwasher, scrubbing the toilet and dusting. There are sighs and grunts and “do I have to’s?” There’s allowance and jelly beans and “your a part of this family so you have to help.”

There are kick bikes and skateboards, cozy coupes and trikes. There’s a driveway lined with helmets, knee pads and all the balls. And don’t throw out the special sticks.

In this season there are forts in every room, Legos in every corner. There are Star Wars ships, stuffed animals and teething toys on the floor.

There are pillows and blankets and palates for movie night. Benji and golden retriever puppies, all talking animals on repeat.

There are lullabies, nursery rhymes and Ed Shereen. There are ABC’s and learning to read and chapter books. There are bookshelves overflowing with stories and memories.

There are bad words and “what does that mean?” There’s a lot of explaining.

There are “Mommy, watch me” “Mommy, come see” and “Mommy, I need you” And a mommy who is too tired.

There are burp clothes in every room. Diapers in every trashcan. Pacies at arms length. Soft baby blankets that have cradled sweet infants stacked on the dresser. Elephants and stars as the markers of new life. One day soon, they will be put away for the next generation. But not today.

There are bottles and high chairs and crumbs on the floors. There is a well-used broom and dust pan.

There are little teeth to be brushed and nails to be clipped. There are bottoms to be wiped and bodies to be washed. There’s a line of grime around the bath tub. There are endless loads of tiny laundry. And a mama who can’t keep up.

There are bruises and scrapes and boo- boo’s to be kissed. There are tears to be soothed and breath to be calmed. There are hurt feelings and tender hearts and parents praying they are doing it right.

There are arms that are always full, to match our hearts. The new muscles of motherhood.

In this season, quiet and solitude are illusive but necessary. Yoga, meditation, all of the thoughts, none of the thoughts, who cares as long as there’s silence.

There are hard won nights with friends. Sinking into the chair, mom persona slowly melting away. Desperate tears cried over glasses of margarita’s. “Am I doing this right?” Compassionate ears who know you love your babies and never make you feel guilty for not always loving being a parent.

In this season, I hang on for dear life to the man who is in as deep as I am. We pass in the morning with brief kisses and quick words. We come together at night, grateful for the love that keeps our lights on and our hearts full. We’re too busy to know if everything is okay so maybe that means it is.

We know that this is the best season. It is also the toughest. We love hard. We work hard. We never give up, except at bedtime. At bedtime, we definitely give up. We throw our hands in the air, fall into bed and Netflix ourselves to sleep.

Worth it.