Perspective

Do you ever hate being a mom?

I do.

It usually happens when I'm sick and/or running on two hours of sleep because Leo has decided that 2 a.m. is the perfect time to get up and play for four hours and then decides that he's going to get up for the day an hour earlier than usual on top of that. As I'm trying, in my half-conscious state, to keep him entertained I'm often bombarded by memories of my pre-baby life. "I remember what it was like to sleep through the night," I think to myself. "And sleeping in . . . that was the best." And then I wonder why on earth I ever wanted a baby in the first place. "People lied to me," I think to myself. "No one ever told me it would be like this." I'm sure if I knew I never would have done it. And if there was a way to undo it? I would be first in line. And then Leo will laugh at something I do or fall asleep (and there's something miraculous about falling asleep that transforms even the most demonic of children into little angels), and I'll look at his sweet, innocent face and remember. "Oh," I think. "This is what it's all about. This is what makes it all worthwhile." And in that moment I'm so grateful that this:

is a part of my life for just a little while.