My children, without a doubt, have made my life living for.
Anytime I question myself or my self-worth, I look at them. 
They are perfect.
Perfectly rough and tumble boys.
Perfectly sweet and caring and stubborn and competitive.
Perfect for hugging and kissing and wrestling to the ground.
Perfect for imagining and pretending and being so loud I can't hear myself think.
Perfect for snuggling and cuddling and stealing covers and curling up to me so tight I can't move.
Perfect for making me to want to be a better me.
More to come...
Day 08 → Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
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