Ah-ha moments, one of many.

So anyone that knows Elijah knows he tells LONG stories. He's 8 and has all the time in the world. He tells stories about World of Warcraft, Call of Duty, ICarley and some are just made up. So I was cleaning the kitchen and Eli's in deep into a story about Russian Espionage during the war (yeah, he's 8) and about fighting and going on and on and on. I am getting frustrated because I am lost in the story and I don't know what he's talking about, nor do I give a rat's ass. So I tell him I have to go to the bathroom and I'll be back. So I go to the bathroom....then I hear him in my room (the bathroom is in my bedroom) and I can hear his handcuffs rattling (his story was a live demonstration with handcuffs, too). I sit in the bathroom and try to wait him out. I am reading a magazine, I don't want to hear more about this story and secret agents. Then like a stab in the heart a rush of guilt overwhelms me. My sister is dead. She will never get to hear a story from her children. She will never get to hold them or kiss them or love them on this earth. What a stupid bitch I am. What a horrible mother. I get myself together and go out to sit on the bed to hear the rest of his story. I listened like I have never listened before. I kissed him and told him I live for his stories. I could see the pride in his eyes.
Love your children. Love your family.