Breathe

I crept quietly up the stairs on my way to bed last night, cringing at every creak and moan of the steps underfoot. When I reached the door to the bedroom, I grabbed the door knob and turned it ever so slowly. As I pushed the door open, I could see the silhouettes of the bed and Logan's crib in the glow of the nightlight. I tip-toed over to the crib, peering down into the darkness, and listened for his breath. I strained to hear it, and when I finally did I went about getting ready for bed. This is my nightly routine.

After slipping into my night gown I slid under cool, crisp sheets on our large king-sized bed. I moved around to get comfortable, doing my best not to make too much of a rustling. Then I laid there in my bed and listened. Listened to the sound of Logan's breathing coming from his crib on my left, and the sound of Zander's breathing coming from the monitor on my right. Surrounded by the sounds of my little boys, all of the screams, temper tantrums, stresses and strains of the day melted away and I drifted off to a peaceful slumber.

Every night I do this, and each and every night I am reminded of what a truly beautiful life I lead. A beautiful life indeed.