I never wanted my own children. Something about being the oldest of seven and seeing 4 births and honestly just wanting to be selfish and loving my freedom. Don’t get me wrong – I love babies and children. Their innocence, inquisitiveness, and tenacity is precious. But life has a way of having its own way. The man I’m dating has children, and his two sons live with us every other weekend. Have to say, I love them. They make me get off my couch every weekend they are with me because every teenage boy needs to have their out-door times or else the adults living with them will go nuts. Would I like my own time? Yes, but if I’m honest with myself, I get more done and experience more fun times and memories every day they are with me. I get hugs and jokes and dorky pictures. The pic in this post was taken this weekend by the oldest… neat perspective, right? I might need an attitude adjustment every so often when I have to figure out what to do with them when it’s rainy and cold outside, but in the end, it’s worth it. They are now my family, and they are important in my life, and I in theirs.