Nine days out of ten I’m barely making it to bedtime. Things have felt really challenging with the kids for, well, I guess a year. We just celebrated Amayah’s first birthday, which felt like more of a celebration that we actually lived through the first year of her life.
Seems like the struggle of parenthood is outweighing the joys. Everyday is a constant battle of wills.
And we’re expecting again, and the thought of another baby can send my anxiety through the roof when the days feel extra hard.
Too often we have already stopped by the emergency room, destroyed an expensive item, shattered one of my willow tree angels and had a good many tantrums, all before 8 a.m.
This evening my son ran out of the house in his socks and no jacket, and got in the car.
I was furious. I had already told him what felt like a million times to get his boots on and find a rain coat.
Baby girl started screaming, and I felt exasperated.
Then my husband started singing “you’re gonna miss this.”
That really irritated me. No I’m not going to miss kids who scream and don’t listen.
Then he stopped and told me to look out the window. There was our son sitting in the drivers seat, dreaming he was out on the open road.
Yeah I guess, I’ll miss that sight, I resigned.
We got in the car and listened to that song as our kids screamed all the way across town (they hate the car), and both got chocked up because honestly…that song is our life.
It’s moments like those when things do slow down, for a second, and you remember not to wish away this stage, because we already miss the last one.
And I really am thankful for my kids. Including the bean in my belly.