Thanks to the man upstairs.

As I sit at the kitchen table this morning, over breakfast...

I look to my right and see a little boy, 8 months old, asleep, because 5:30 am and all morning banging my ribbon holder against the wall, drinking juice, and watching Barney with Bagel will tire a little boy out.

I look down to the two sleeping boxer, my girls follow us where ever they can, just wanting to be near us, and in the action of the day.

I look across the table. At a beautiful 2 year, 7 months, and 1 day old girl. Blonde hair up in a messy pony tail, eating scrambled eggs, and banana's with buttered toast on the side. You stop and look at me and watch me eat my sunny side up eggs on toast. I can see the wheels turning, as you take your toast, and place your scrambled eggs in the middle.

You gently fold the toast in half and say "just like my mommy" As I dip my toast to soak up the run off egg yolk, you mock me and pretend to do the same.

As I look at Weaky, sleeping in his chair, my two big girls asleep on the floor, and the Tinkerbell pajama'd little girl across from me. I sigh, realizing how amazingly perfect my life is.

You look up at me across the table, and smile. You say "Love you mom"

"I love you too"

Days like today.

Days that are simple.

Days that are calm, and just happy. Me and my babies. I couldn't be in a better place right now.

And lots of thanks to the man upstairs. The man upstairs sleeping in my bed. The man who works 2 sometimes 3 jobs. All for me to stay home, and to raise our babies the way we want them raised.

I love this life we have created. And I am lucky to be in it.