In a year...
I had a friend once say that the first year after having a baby is the hardest.
I have to agree.
But I also have to say that with each child and each passing year, I grow more and more at ease with my life.
It's like I've become a worn out, comfortable pair of jeans.
And I love it.
I take a great deal of satisfaction out of being a homeschooling-stay-at-home mom. I think it's the best, most rewarding thing I could have done with my life, and I am so grateful that I have a husband who values these things as well and has made it possible for me to do it.
I wouldn't trade all the poopy diapers, runny noses, messy faces, tangled hair, stained clothing, temper tantrums, hysterical meltdowns, high blood pressure, or parental anxiety for all the money, praise, power, position, or possessions in the world. It just wouldn't be enough. What I have is priceless. Nothing beats the anticipation of baby teeth almost coming out. Nothing beats the unrestrained joy of a child who is allowed to play outside in the sun. Nothing beats the knowledge that your kids get their wacky facial expressions from you. Nothing.
If you had asked me 15 years ago if watching an 11-month-old awkwardly shove Chex squares into her mouth would bring me joy, I would have called you crazy. Now I would shout an emphatic "yes!" and squeeze her fat little cheeks between my hands and revel in her giggle, and the smile on her face that tells me she doesn't have a clue she looks like a hobo with soggy cereal bits all over her face.
(That sounded less creepy in my head.)
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