Starting to doze off in a public place then jolting awake to do a quick head count of children, momentarily forgetting exactly what number of children you have in the fog of not-quite-awake-ness!
Enjoying a sloppy kiss that involved teeth given by a giggling toddler.
The feeling of relief that goes with a burp, fart or nappy fill by a grumpy baby.
Feeling a little weepy when the baby's umbilical stump falls off because they aren't a "real" newborn anymore!
Instantly checking what the kid's are doing when there is a strange noise or silence
Frantically looking for the dummy (pacifier for my US readers!), only to realise you are holding it by the handle in you TEETH!
I have a new motto - Sir Edmund Hilary wasn't thinking of the blisters as he climbed the summit.
I love hiking. I haven't done it in ages, not properly, but there is something about walking through the wilderness with a pack that makes me happy. When I have blisters the size of golf balls on the soles of my feet, my old shoulder injury is nagging and the pack is weighing a ton, I stop and look around. The vista reminds me of why I am doing what I am doing and suddenly I have the energy to go on.
When I am exhausted, still in my PJ's at noon, the kids are being 'challenging' (read: being bratty) and I am feeling a little like running away from home, I catch a glimpse of the view. Sometimes it is a close up thing that boosts me - a wisp of Erin's blond hair catching the light, Christopher planting a kiss on Anna's nose, an impromptu bouquet of lawn daises from Billy, Anna making a noise like a squeaky toy when she hiccups. Sometimes it is the wider view that lifts me. I see a hardworking man in the little boy who loves stacking wood, a potential medical missionary in the little girl ministering with her plastic doctor's kit, a strong, gentle man in the tender, sloppy, toddler kiss, a world of possibilities in the newborn's eyes.
Take a moment to enjoy the view, you won't notice the blisters nearly as much!