First of all, I am tired. Beyond tired, I am exhausted. I'm too old for raising babies crosses my mind daily. I will be 33 next week. My son is 15 months. He is a mess. Crazy, blonde haired, blue eyed, mess. One who runs around like a tornado going across a field. If it it's not bolted down or out of his reach, it's fair game. My antique glass and metal gumball machine? Yeah... that's a thing of the past. Oh, you were saving that pile of coupons to clip? Here mom... I helped!!!! Always smiling and laughing, he is my miracle. And I would not trade him for ANYTHING! Not even a day at the spa. And then, there is my blessing... my daughter. She's 12 going on 40. Her favorite hobbies including googling over boy bands and forgetting who the mother is. Yep.... 12. Ahh! Not as crazy as her brother, she definitely has her mother's sass. Nothing is ever fair... being grounded from her phone and not even her having to do the dishes. I wouldn't trade her either. However, that day at the spa is looking mighty damn good. As previously stated I have a miracle and a blessing. Neither of them came easy. Both were a total surprise. To say I never thought I could love them as much as I could is an understatement. They are my life. And while each scream, sass mouth, and all around crazy or bad attitude sometimes makes me want to go bat shit crazy, they are mine. Miniature versions of me. They bring out the best AND the worst in me.