Crumbs.

The last few weeks have been some of those weeks.  Full of fussing and whining and crying.  Ear infections and fevers.  Wet diapers, dirty diapers, leaky diapers.  Sticky fingers, sticky table, sticky chairs.  Crumbs all over the floor. Nursing and teething and lanolin. Chatter, chatter, chatter.  Questions, questions, chatter.  Crumbs.  More whining.

Tim encourages me to get out of the house by myself in the evenings, just to take some time and breathe. Maybe walk through Target.  I would if I had the energy.

Some days seem so long. I'm convinced the clock slows down between 3pm and 6pm.  The fussing gets louder, and my fuse gets shorter.  Bedtime?  Where art thou, bedtime?

But then, in the middle of all of that are these moments.  Sparkly, shiny moments when I notice the fat rolls on the baby's knees, or when he laughs, tilts his head back, and I glimpse those two tiny teeth popping through that top gum.  I find an airplane shoved under my pillow. I watch the boys giggle at each other.

I bend down to give Ben a kiss, and he wraps his arm around me, grabs the back of my head with his peanut butter and jelly-covered hand, and argues that he loves me more. And I snap a picture as fast as I can.

Even one of those dreaded, awful "selfies," because snapping a picture is the closest I can get to freezing these moments forever, which I think I would, if I could.  Crumbs and snot and diapers and all.