Arms

My arms feel like jelly at the end of the day.

Exhausted. Weak. Sore. Feeble.

From hours of holding. Carrying Pars. Holding Estela. Cuddling Ady. Snuggling Anders. And then there's Cam...
Lifting laundry baskets. Hauling treat-filled and wipe-full diaper bags. Picking up every single toy within the western hemisphere up off the floor. Hugging: lots and lots and lots of hugging.

And I'm writing this not to whine (ok. maybe a teeny complaint) but to remember. To try and remember these days of kids filling my arms. Overflowing my life with demands and attention.

Simply wanting me to hold them.