Every night when I put my babes to bed (after a couple of stories, a ton of Tom foolery, some serious wrangling and loads of hugs and kisses), I tell them both the same thing….

‘You are more magical than rainbows and I love you more than all the stars in the Milky Way. Be brave’.

As I gently close their bedroom doors, I go through a mix of emotions. First off, phew, that’s that done. But almost instantly, I miss them. It sounds ridiculous and it is really. How could I possibly miss them when I’ve only just put them in bed? Yet I do.

I miss their mess and chaos, their cheekiness and little voices. I miss how funny they are and know I’ll have to wait until morning before I get another delicious cuddle from their incredibly strong tiny arms. How are they so strong?

So, every night, without fail, I tell them how loved and magical they are because I want to ensure that no matter what happens in the daytime, they go to sleep knowing they are adored. I never want there to be any doubt in their minds. Even if they’ve been the naughtiest monkeys alive, which they never are – writing that feels like tempting fate, cut to tomorrow when one of them punches a police officer and the other one sh*ts on a baby – I will never let them feel unloved.

Drinks will get spilled on cream carpets, doors will be kicked, toys thrown, siblings hit, beds will be p*ssed on, books ripped, boundaries tested (or oblitareated) and words screamed in the heat of the moment. But life is too short and our children are too all-consuming-loved to go to bed mad. Nobody can know what tomorrow will bring and guilt & regret will eat you alive faster than cancer.

They are more magical than rainbows and I do love them more than all the stars in the Milky Way and I’m going to do my damnedest to try to show them that. Sh*tting on a baby or not.

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