I should have.
I should have incredible abs.
I bend and stoop and crouch every day, reaching for tiny toys lost in ridiculous places.
I should have perfect legs.
I walk, run, and scramble about 75 miles a day chasing down children and animals and the occasional postal truck.
I should have amazing arms.
I lift 20 and 30 and 40 pound weights constantly and in every direction. Over and over. Repeat. Again.
I don’t have those things. I don’t even have dreams of those things.
What I have is a tough heart.
I have a heart that can cry at school programs, discipline for backtalk, and cheer for a newborn calf.
What I have are quick hands.
I can save children from falling off the counter, stir homemade spaghetti sauce, and sign reading charts. At the same time.
What I have are sharp eyes.
I see tantrums minutes before they manifest, I see tired kids behind tears, I see lost stuffed animals at 50 paces.
My whole body… and most of my mind… is fine -tuned to kids. I cannot run a marathon (do not ask me), my pre-pregnancy body is missing in action and probably having a great time, and I regularly forget to eat meals. I do not fit on any measurement chart, and I can’t remember the names of kids in my high school class.
But I can decipher a 2-year-old’s speech, I can put three kids to bed before 8 o’clock, and I can set a timer on any electronic device out there.
I don’t have what I should have.
I have what I need.
I’m built for family.
I can do this.