I just have to say that having a 2 year old in the house is a blast. The crazy legs dances, the sound effects (wee-ooo-wee-oo!), the demands for "Ring Around the Rosey", but especially Yo Gabba Gabba! I love them all. Ok, sure there are the hundreds of' "NO, mama" I hear everyday. And the poopy diapers are stinkier every day, I swear. But overall, life is sweet in our house. We get full nights of sleep (except the post-daylight-savings-time adjustment period. Hello, 6 am!). I actually get answers to questions, most of the time. And the boy even picks up after himself (about as much as his father).
But the surprising part of all this? At first I absolutely dreaded many parts of motherhood. Many things really, except the actual breastfeeding. I disliked the being awake several times a night and not really getting to leave the company of my son for over a year, but the actual milk input to baby stuff was pure bliss. But the first few months were like a battle of the wills. I felt like my tiny infant son was an adversary, my personal enemy who's task it was to make me tired, bored and isolated. Not a nice thing to say about my offspring, I know, but its true. Sure, I have always loved him, ever since I saw his bloody little face in the OR. But like Tina asked, what's love got to do with it? My life was completely torn up and most of my social network was off working or having fun. My time was definitely in no way my own. I had a 6 pound drill sergeant, jefe and overseer rolled up in one. I was at home with a pooping and crying little sack of cuteness. But once he started having a personality and moving around, things were better. Or was it I just got used to the pooping, nursing, not sleeping, etc.? You decide.
But fast forward to the early honeymoon of our third year together. We are in bliss. There's laughter and games. There's even learning. Me and the boy. Again what is the true cause of all this happiness and mirth. Is it because the boy is maturing, growing and more interactive? Is it because I've just gotten into the mommy thing? Is it because I spend 3 days a week at work doing grown-up things? Or is it some combination of those causes or more? You decide.
I'm too busy singing and dancing to give a damn.