Last week we celebrated our twins’ third birthdays. It was a wonderful day filled with laughter, celebration, and sugar. They probably won’t remember the day, but I will.
I’ll remember they played with friends, they ate donuts and ice cream, and they cried happy, exhausted tears. We hugged and we sang and we spent the day reminding them of how very much they are loved.
On that day, shortly after I put them down for their naps, I received a knock at my door and a bouquet of flowers.
The flowers were a thank you, from my mother-in-law, and the card read: Thanks for being the best mom to Cooper and Crosby.
I was so touched by this kind and thoughtful gesture and this acknowledgement that this day was also a day for me.
It was, after all, another year.
It was another year of growth. It was another year of successes and failures and trying my best. It was another year of firsts and lasts.
It was another year. It was a gift.
They made it. I made it. We all made it.
The year’s days weren’t always graceful. There were stumbles and screw-ups. There were times when I wasn’t the greatest version of myself and there are a few days I wish I could take back for a re-do.
But there were also some Best. Days. Ever. There were baby steps and there were big steps. There were “I have to write this down” moments. We traveled and adventured. We had bellyaching laughter. We surprised ourselves. We had a whole lot of joy.
So on this day, this day that I thought had nothing to do with me, I celebrated alongside my boys. And I gave thanks for the gentle reminder that behind every child’s birthday cake stands a hardworking, hand-holding mom who deserves to share a little in the happy and a lot in the love.