Thursday, March 20, 2014


Mornings mean a chubby baby up way too early, nursing while Mommy tries to get a few more minutes of sleep. 
Mornings are a sleepy toddler, asking to get under the covers with his mommy and the stuffed animal of the day. Then as he wakes up, asking for lotion on his knees, mentholatum on his nose and the snow globe music turned on. 
Mornings are requests for happy meal (oatmeal) and a bath and to go to the park and Target before my feet have even hit the floor. 
Mornings mean brother cuddles and "I'm glad to see you!" and "baby Porter wants some yellow bananas". 
Mornings mean throwing on some clothes, spreading a blanket on the living room carpet and serving my boys a breakfast picnic while Curious George or Daniel Tiger plays. 
Mornings mean cuddly little boys who are still a little sleepy, wet diapers, cups of milk, staying in jammies as long as we can, stuffed animals sitting on the Elmo potty, questions about where Daddy is and if he's bringing home donuts or pizza, and iced coffee. 
Mornings are transitioning from being a night owl to a real morning person because I get to wake up to these two sweet-smelling, bed-headed baby boys. 

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