Epicenter

Standing behind her high chair I twist the top square of Phoebe's medium blond hair through an elastic while she is momentarily distracted by licking peanut butter off apple slices. I have about 4 seconds to secure this elastic before it becomes a wrestling match. She is serenading our little threesome with a new song the world has never heard and may never hear again. I'm in love with her nonsensical babble. The southern sun is pouring through my kitchen windows warmly as it does everyday during lunchtime. Julian is perched in his hand-me-down pink bumbo seat on our kitchen table watching intently and cooing at us while chewing on his bib, which is soaked clear through with his own spit up. In fact, a pool of spit up has begun flooding the table below his feet. It's disgusting, actually. He is so handsome. He catches me looking at him and jerks his hands excitedly up to his face squealing in delight. This is it. The epicenter of my day. The moment where my heart raps against my ribcage because the love I have for these two babies is so powerful, so genuine it takes me out for a brief second. It's the moment that makes the difficult hours preceding and the difficult hours ahead not only bearable but absolutely worth it.