The Little Years

For every sleepless night, there's a tiny hand cupped around my cheek.

For every meltdown, "I just love you, Mommy."

For every assault by baby fingernails, there is a strawberry scented head nestled on my chest. 

For every refusal to eat anything but cheese and carbs, I find a new trick buried in my sleeve. 

For every bite stolen, there are those delicious cheeks.

For every bump, bulge, and wrinkle; "Mommy, you're so beautiful." 

The little years wear you down, just to build you up anew.