MMA Morning Wake up Call

Excuse the following series of blurry, abstract photographs. They represent an attempt in capturing what I endure every morning as consequence of both sharing a bed with my husband and giving birth to three boys.  One by one those boys make their way to our bedroom, and give us a play by play of how their last night's sleep went. Johnny is typically chipper and usually let's us know he's been awake at least three hours already (usually not true.) William is always pretty proud of himself and happy that the sleeping portion of his 24 hour routine is now completed, "I 'WAKE!" He'll then curl up in a ball next to me so I can hug him and rub his back.  Matthew is a bit of a wild card. Sometimes he comes bolting into our bedroom all squeals and excitement, other days he is pretty livid with the world and just yells "Nooooooo!" while gathering his bearings.  No matter Matthew's mood, his requests are typically the same: that he weasel his way between John and me, and that I go warm up some milk for him.  While I am away serving that two foot tall tyrant, he excitedly arranges his blankie around him and nuzzles into dad. He'll then take a deep breath of anticipation as if he is saying, "All systems go! Momma, bring me my milk!" Then, I'm pretty sure fireworks go off around him spelling, "Youngest Child Right Here!"
These mornings are all fine and dandy for the brief moments that the five of us peacefuly enjoy each other's company.  There is chatter and joking and cuddling...then IT happens.  What is IT, you ask?
The wrestling. The crawling. The throwing. The growling. The swinging. The clamoring. The hitting. The pulling. The pushing. The creeping. The jumping. The landing. The legs in the air.
Our bed quickly transforms to a wrestling arena.
What was once a cheerful, quiet morning turns into a mixed martial arts display of their mother's nightmare and their dad's dream come true. They're animals. And their father relishes in it. To be fair, I do find it rather endearing in the early stages of their morning wrestling match, it just escalates so quickly!
Cue the pictures:

Today as I watched their brawl, introspective thoughts cascaded my mind. First, what a great dad. I am so grateful they have these moments with him every day.  Second, I have THREE boys; three dirty, mischievous, tender-hearted boys. Third, in ten years, I will have three TEENAGE boys; I will have stinky, hungry, taller-than-me boys, that probably won't want to cuddle and tell me all about the best and worst parts of their day. They will probably just want pizza rolls and more Axe Body Spray or something like that.
I guess I don't really know.
What I do know is that this phase of little blond boys clamoring for their mama's attention has an expiration, and it is quickly creeping upon me. I am excited for their lives ahead of them, those boys have magnificant spirits. It is my role as their mother to stengthen them for the mountains they will be called to move.  This morning, my heart swelled with gratitude that I get to be a nurturing influence on their journey.
Then I got kicked in the face, and everyone got kicked out of the bed.  The get-ready-fast-because-we're-going-to-be-late-again morning routine throttled into high gear.
I thank God for the moment of perspective that inspired me to squeeze my boys a little tighter, and laugh with them over something silly a little longer.  I am grateful for the realization as we knelt down for morning prayer, that no matter what lies ahead; I am not alone in my work and God is watching over His boys.