This little ball of poop, tears, and super soft skin has certainly been keeping me busy, and I love almost every minute of it. They always say that the happiest day of your life is the day your child is born, and during my weeks of recovery I didn't feel that way at all, and I was ridden with guilt. Thank you hormones! But now that my son is three months old, I get it. Getting a routine going was really hard, but now that I understand his cries, and know how to make him smile, life couldn't be better. I love this kid with everything in me, and I can finally say I get it. Being a mom is incredible.
Waking up to a little smiling face each morning sets the mood for the day, and the feeling I get when he's crying and stops the moment I hold him is indescribable. He's my little partner in crime. As each day passes he gets more and more alert, which means he needs more and more attention. I read to him constantly, play games, cuddle him, take him on walks with dad in the evenings, and he keeps me company while I make breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I can't imagine ever being somewhere without him, no matter how tempting all the babysitting offers are.
I find myself having more sympathy for people who are loading their kids in the car when I'm waiting to take their parking spot, I understand why people with kids are almost always late, and I have the utmost respect for single moms. Seriously... if you're a single mom reading this.... I don't know how you do it.
It took me three months to get my routine down, and my sanity in check, and I never realized how much I missed cooking dinner. No really... I didn't cook a single meal till about two weeks ago. I sleep through the night and I shower every day, and it's no big deal anymore.
I love being a mom, and although I have no idea what to expect in the months and years ahead, I'm taking it day by day, and I couldn't be happier.
