Blessings.

Patience and calm. They're new things for me. Almost foreign words. But step into my day. Let's say it's Monday, of all days. I'm flying solo.


It's 4:30 pm, nap time is over and the babies need to eat. We're using bottles this feeding, so I get those ready. Stick them on the coffee table, push it close to the couch so they're within reach when I sit down. Run upstairs, gently pick up one baby. One-handed, pick up the second. Sebastian squeals. Katharina lets out a sigh and buries her warm face in my chest. I could hold them like this forever. Hands-full, I carry them downstairs.
One on either side of me, their heads propped on my legs, I begin feeding. 30 minutes elapses and their bellies are full. Katharina stares into my face intently as if to say I know you're my mother, and I love you. Sebastian's eyes grow wide as he looks around the room. My heart melts.


Now they have their awake time. Often this is when things can grow hectic. As Katharina spits out her pacifier and Sebastian fills his diaper, dinner on the stove boils over. My cell phone rings. It's Peter calling. Then I get a text: Wanna FaceTime? Every bottle we own is now sitting in the sink begging to be washed, along with the many breast pump parts. The washer beeps once, letting me know the towels are clean and ready to be hung. It beeps again, just a reminder. I put the pacifier back in Katharina's mouth, stick her in her bouncy seat.  The washer beeps a third time as if to say get the towels out or they'll need washed twice more just to get rid of the soggy smell. I change Sebastian's diaper while bouncing Katharina with my foot. The soup, oh! the soup. Diaper-- changed. Katharina's staring around the room contentedly. She's spit out her pacifier again, but doesn't need it anymore. I smile, I hate those things anyway. I head to the kitchen (taking the dirty diapers sitting on the floor with me) and stub my toe on the stroller that's still in the hallway from our walk to the sea this morning. I grab the laundry and throw it in a basket. That'll remind me to hang it at nap time. I changed Sebastian too soon-- he's working on filling that clean diaper. I know because I can hear it from the kitchen. What a boy, I think.
I come back to the living room where my darlings are now happily waiting for me. Their bellies are full. They're so happy. Sebastian kicks his legs, Katharina smiles. I think, What awesome babies we have. I scoop them both up, situate ourselves on the couch, and pull Guess How Much I Love You off the shelf next to us. We read through it, their eyes everywhere but the pages. It's the thought that counts, and at least they can hear my voice, I think.
I think it's nap time, but I haven't even glanced at the clock, so I'm really not sure. It is. It's 6:00 and Peter's on his way home from a tutorial. Arms-full again, we head upstairs. I lay Sebastian on the bed on the other side of the room and hold Katharina's face close to mine, whisper a prayer in her little ear, and lay her down. She grunts and snuggles down into the mattress. I cover her with a swaddling blanket, stick her lovey under her arm and turn around to grab Sebastian. He's wide-eyed, scoping out the room. He kicks his legs as I pick him up, squeeze him tight and whisper a prayer in his ear, too. He's cozy now, I rub their backs one last time and recite the first 3 questions and answers of the Children's Catechism aloud as I leave the room. I do believe they're getting it. I pull the door shut. Open it again. Flip the light off. Done.


I smile and let out a little sigh as I head back down the stairs. I really do love this. And these children. And my husband. 


Oh, my husband. He's walking in as I pass the door. What a refreshing sight he is. His embrace is calming. With his kiss I can battle a million-and-one days like this. "Can I make dinner tonight?" My hero.


I could write about him forever, but back to those lessons.


Patience. Stress doesn't accomplish anything. I fail to trust when I lose it, and I lose precious moments. Priorities. Emails, text messages, dishes, laundry. They'll all be there after bedtime. But I have 30 days (less now that I'm writing this) with two-month old twins. 30 days to cherish them, to invest in them, to teach them, to love on them. To grow with my husband, to fall even more in love with him. Then those days are gone; a fleeting month. Finished. How did I serve my husband? How did I train my children? What did I accomplish? How did I love? 


This is my life, and it's full. I feel as though I'm bursting at the seams. I fall in bed each night joyful and exhausted. I am blessed.