Latch, Laugh, and Repeat

By a Mom of Four

If I had a dollar for every time someone looked at me wrangling my four kids and said with that half-smile, half-pity expression, “Wow… you’ve got your hands full,” I’d definitely have enough money to buy a coffeeshop and still I wouldn’t get to drink it while it’s hot.

It’s always said like it’s news. Like I don’t know. Like I didn’t choose this life on purpose, with love and intention. Like I didn’t dream of this exact chaos, these tiny socks and big personalities, the car seats, the crumbs, the constant “Mommy, look!” every thirty seconds.

Yes. I have my hands full.

Full of the chubby fingers that reach for me in the morning.

Full of little hands that tug on mine in parking lots and playgrounds.

Full of toys and snacks

Full of love notes written in backwards letters.

Full of “Watch this!”

Full of hugs that never last long enough.

Full of scraped knees and bedtime stories and giggles. 

And you know what? My heart is even fuller.

I didn’t stumble into motherhood like this. I didn’t wake up surprised one day by the noise and the mess and the beauty of four little humans calling me mama. I wanted this. I want this. Every day. Even the hard ones. Especially the hard ones, because they remind me that this job—this wildly exhausting, soul-bending, utterly sacred job—is the realest, truest thing I’ve ever done.

So when someone says, “You’ve got your hands full,” and looks at me like “is she falling apart?” 

I just smile and say,

“Good. That’s exactly how I like it.”

Because I do.

I love this beautiful, loud, sticky, love-soaked life.

I love my chaos. I love my people.

So yes, I have my hands full.

and I wouldn’t trade this life for anything.