Full Hands and Full Heart

You guys. I am so tired, I could probably fall asleep sitting up.
But it is a good tired.
You see, my days are so full!
(I am reminded of it all the time; in fact, just today at the twins' well child visit the nurse told me, "You've got your hands really full there!"
I still have no idea how to respond to that one.
"Thank you for noticing."?
"Yes, they are, care to give me a helping hand?" ?
"You're the forty seventh person to tell me that today!" ?)

I do have my hands full.  Both my hands and my heart.
When it's not the twins occupying my hands and my attention, my 11 year old is discussing some random bit of knowledge he learned and knows I'll be interested in.  Or it's about the plot line of the current book my daughter is reading.  Or it's my 7 year old's arms wrapped around my waist or his hands framing my face because he speaks with such feeling, and he speaks love with physical touch. Or it's the sharing of a laugh over my three year old's logic.  Or it's the affirmation that this everyday monotony is exactly what makes life beautiful when my 5 year old requests that I keep on asking him if he wants his sins forgiven when I tuck him into bed at night.  "Every night," he said.

So I keep on keeping on.  Every day and every night.  Because buried in the exhaustion and monotony of motherhood there is beauty and there is satisfaction. And when I dig for it, I realize that I am full near to bursting.