Born to Do

This weekend was one of those busy, non-stop, can't-rest, keep-going kind of weekends.  It was the kind of weekend where your feet hurt and you are so tired at the end of the day you crawl into bed still clothed and don't even care.  It was the kind of memorable weekend that you never, ever forget.

We drove two hours to see our eldest daughter across state lines where she lives with her mother.  We took the girls to that parental hell otherwise known as Chuck E Cheese, and then to Denny's to eat.  They fed the games tokens, and, because they are girls, mostly kept busy by riding the fake pony and taking pictures in the photo booths.  They rarely wanted to play anything competitive that would actually earn them tickets they could trade in for goodies.  So my husband and I fed the games tokens and won them tickets.  The baby sat in the stroller, eyes wide, mesmerized by the loud sounds and smells and flashing lights and people inside Chuck E Cheese.

They sat next to one another in the booth at Denny's coloring and telling one another silly stories punctuated by the shrill laughter only little girls have.  The baby snuggled in her Daddy's lap, and I ate very fattening pancakes smothered in chocolate and peanut butter sauce. 

 Ava gave me a hug in the parking lot, whispering, "I can't wait to stay the night again," and my heart grew bigger.

We dropped Ava back at her mom's and then began the long drive home.  On the way back we stopped at Tanger Outlets to do some shopping, and we took our birthday girl (who turns 5 next weekend when she will be at her mom's) to The Children's Place to buy a dress.  I took her into the fitting room to try on clothes and my heart grew bigger as I watched her giggle and twirl and grin at herself in the mirror.  She turned to glance at me over her shoulder, "I love you, Mama Jenn.  This is the best day ever!"  And it was.

We had an impromptu surprise party for Issa at the park the next day.  As she rounded the corner with her dad and saw me standing there, surrounded by people, holding a cupcake with a giant purple 5 candle on it, her face broke into a wide smile.  "Mama Jenn!" she gasped, delighted. 

And as we ate our dinner that night Freyja giggled loudly from her bouncy seat, occasionally shrieking with glee.  And Issa smiled up at me and said, "Mama Jenn, this was the best day ever," and it was. 

Of course my weekend was interspersed with redirecting bickering children to more worthwhile conversation, wiping snotty noses and messy faces, and helping Issa "shake it off" after she fell and scared herself at the park.  But these duties came as effortlessly to me as breathing, and I barely noticed them amid the delighted squeals and happy faces of my smiling children.

And as I lay in bed last night it dawned on me, as it often does, that I was born to be their mother.  It is my highest calling in this life, and it is my greatest blessing.