Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often, it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there - fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I've got a sneaky feeling you'll find that love actually is all around.
In a life consumed with messes, bickering, fighting, potty talk, and yelling, it does a mother's heart good to see her children love on each other. It may be hard to spot sometimes, but it's there. It's found in the bedtime secrets, the morning greetings, after-nap snuggles, the mountain of laundry they find joy building forts in, a bad dream that wakes them crying- worried about their brother, the giggles to the jokes only they find funny, polite manners that happened without encouragement first, sincere apologies, and a special affection for a certain baby brother.
I am proud of these little boys. Proud of who they are becoming, and yet I can fully accept and love them just they way they are right now. That's the amazing thing about love.
And the amazing thing about having 4 males in my life is that my odds of getting flowers in the future has increased exponentially over the last few years. Baby Girl and I are gonna be blessed, big time.