Love Lasts Forever

morning cray cray

I stand in front of the mirror, clutching a curling iron in one hand and a tangled mass of hair in the other. The bathroom, usually my sanctuary, has transformed into a chaotic war zone. Taylor and Nico are perched on the edge of the tub, their matching outfits—carefully chosen by me last night—now marred by the remnants of peanut butter toast and splotches of orange juice.

"Mommy!" Taylor squeals, her tiny hands flailing as she accidentally knocks over a bottle of shampoo. "Nico opened my juice! He took a sip!"

"I did not!" Nico protests, his curls bouncing as he gestures wildly. "I only wanted to see if it was good, Taylor!"

"Enough fighting, you two!" I call over my shoulder as I attempt to manipulate my hair into submission. Charlie is in the other room, wrestling with our four-year-old, Demi, who is currently draping herself dramatically over our coffee table. "Demi, sweetheart, this isn't a stage for your ballet routine!"

"I'm a swan, Mommy!" she trills back, her voice light and airy. With a sigh, I try to focus on getting my hair curled. My makeup sits untouched on the counter, taunting me as I mold the stubborn strands.

"Harper, do you need any help in there?" Charlie shouts, his voice muffled by the closed bathroom door.

"Yes! Can you please keep an eye on the twins?" I shout back, feeling a flutter of anxiety rise in my chest. "I can't walk away from this!"

"Got it! But just so you know, they probably found the sprinkles again."

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Charlie! Not the sprinkles. Again! They're going to get sick!"

A series of giggles echoes from the living room, and I peek out to see Taylor and Nico, arms wrapped around each other as they tumble from the edge of the bathtub to the floor. Ugh. The twins are destined to create constant chaos.

"Guys! You can't—"

Before I can finish my thought, they're both on their feet, running toward me with wild glee. Demanding my attention always seems to happen right when I'm at my most vulnerable. And here I am, still in my pajamas, my hair half-cooked, and my makeup only halfway finished.

"Mommy, we got spinkies!" Taylor announces, holding up a handful of sprinkles like it's the most prized possession of the world.

"No, no, no!" I yell, whipping around and frantically running toward them. "Put that down!"

Charlie emerges from the living room, holding Demi's hand as she spins in circles, clearly content in her own world. "What's going on?" he asks, feigning innocence.

"You have to herd them better! We can't start our day with sprinkles!" I exclaim, reaching to take the sprinkles from Taylor's hand. Just as I do, though, Nico darts past me like a tiny tornado, diving between my legs and barreling into Taylor. They both tumble to the ground, laughter erupting around the room.

"Harper, I honestly think they're just having a little fun," Charlie laughs, clearly charmed by their antics.

"Fun? This is chaos!" I retort, trying to keep my voice steady. Despite my exasperation, I can't help but smile at how wonderfully mischievous they are. "Could you at least keep them contained for a minute while I try to finish this?"

"Okay, how about this?" Charlie says, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I'll distract the beasts, and you can finish getting ready. Seems only fair, right?"

"Fine," I say, shaking my head but unable to hide my smile. "Just... no dog food, okay?"

"Promise!" He retreats with Demi, who is scaling the couch like the adventurous little girl she is.

With renewed purpose, I turn back to the mirror, the sound of giggles and squeals filtering in from the other room. I hitched my hair back into the curling iron for a few more seconds before letting it go, admiring the bouncy wave that's forming. Perfect! Just as I'm about to reach for my foundation, a small body crashes into the bathroom, and I glance down to see Sabrina, my sweet two-year-old, with sticky fingers reaching for my makeup palette like it's a treasure trove.

"Mommy!" she yells, her voice bubbling with excitement. "Paint time!"

"Oh no, sweet pea! Not the makeup!" I cry, swiftly snatching it away from her little hands.

"Not paint?" she pouts, her doe-like eyes almost too much to resist.

"No paint," I assure her. "Here, let's do your hair instead!" I squish down the budding frustration and lean down to pull her into my arms.

"Hair pretty?" she asks, tilting her head back to meet my gaze, and I can't help but smile.

"Yes, but first I need to finish mine. Do you want to help?" I suggest, knowing very well her version of helping might involve more tiny fingers in my hair than I bargained for.

"Okay!" she yells, clapping her hands.

Just then, Charlie bursts in, chaos trailing behind him. "I've exchanged two little tornadoes for," he gestures dramatically, "the ultimate ocean wave!" He cradles Victor, our other two-year-old, who is still happily chewing on a pretzel from the kitchen counter.

"Look at him," Charlie says, grinning. "Just one pretzel and he's happier than I am most days."

"That's good!" I chime. "Complement each other, but he shouldn't eat while you hold him, or he'll..." My voice trails off as I see a pretzel crumb tumble down onto Charlie's shirt.

"Okay, I see where this is going," Charlie stifles a laugh as he notices the trail of crumbs. "It's just like our lives now—ever flowing, ever creating a mess."

"Yes! It is a mess," I agree, sliding a hairpin into my curls as the beauty of the moment pushes back the stress of the morning. "But it's our mess."

As I look up at him, my heart swells with the love that often gets buried beneath the demands of parenting. "Thank you for helping me, Charlie. I really appreciate it."

He leans down, brushing his lips against mine, the warmth of his affection breaking through the chaos of our morning. "You're supermom. I'm just here to support your superpowers," he smirks.

I glance at the mirror, my reflection now a semblance of order, with my hair curled and makeup complete enough for a cozy day at home. Behind me, the real joy is unfurling—a messy, vibrant life filled with laughter, love, and the promise of another beautiful day.

"Alright, what's next on the agenda?" I ask, turning to the whirlwind of tiny bodies and giggles around us. Two hours late but right on time for a life filled with absolute chaos, and I wouldn't change a thing.