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Blessed is the body that jolts awake the minute the tiny feet hit the floor at 5:34 AM (for the 3rd morning in a row)…for it was strong enough to birth his entire being.
Blessed are the eyes that reluctantly open to greet the little face next to the bed…for he thinks they are beautiful.
Blessed are the weary bare feet that shuffle down the hall, up and down the stairs, multiple times filling his various demands…for he thinks that their chipped “toe painting” is pretty.
Blessed are the tired arms that change wet sheets…for they also know the blessings of hugs.
Blessed are the hands that prepare toast and grapes and more toast, and more toast and somehow still find time to fix coffee…for those are the hands he loves to hold the most.
Blessed are the ears that notice the Legos getting dumped even from the bedroom on the other side of the house, and listen to the songs from Signing Time, again…for those ears can also hear the precocious things he says.
Blessed are the lips that breathe weary sighs and find frustrating words escape from between them…for they are blessed to kiss his little cheeks.
Blessed is the tangled hair that gets pulled back into a ponytail instead of brushed…for he says it’s beautiful.
Blessed are all the moms who were forced awake before they were ready to care for needy little ones…
…for they shall get through this exhausting day, just like they did yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.
…for they are doing a mighty work by raising these children, even when they feel lost in pony tails and leftover toast crusts.
…for they are good moms.