Acceptance

I have come to accept my role as the sole woman in the Anderson house on Elm Street.  I have come to accept that cleaning yellow stains off the bathroom floor will be my plight for a few more years.  I have come to accept that any conversation about bodily functions will produce much laughter.  I have come to accept that any movie with a superhero will be watched with awe while any movie with a princess will be watched with yawns and groans.

I have come to accept that I will step on Legos.  I have come to accept that any sort of ball will be thrown in the house.  I have come to accept that wrestling will teeter on boxing. 

I have come to accept the ridiculous questions people will ask about the size of our family.  And how busy we are.  And how loud we are. 

I have come to accept that these boys have stolen my heart and will likely break it one day (like when they leave the house for good or bring home a girl for me to meet).  I have come to accept that sleeping through the night is probably not going to happen for many, many years. I have come to accept that all I can really do for them is pray like a warrior doing battle.