There are some days where my day is just too hard. There are some days where the baby doesn’t stop screaming. Is he teething? Tired? Hungry? There are some days where every word out if my toddler’s mouth is said with a WHINE and is met with an hourly temper tantrum like clock work. There are some days where my big boy tests me incessantly. There are some days where my husband doesn’t come home until all three are fast asleep. On those days there isn’t enough sunshine or my gym time isn’t long enough to make my day any easier.
I can counter all of that by saying that someday I’ll be begging my baby to let me hold him and not remembering the days that even the suggestion of putting him down brings on hysterics. Before I know it my toddler will be hormonal and ten times worse. And I can’t forget that the ground work I’m doing right now with my big boy by setting boundaries will hopefully pay off at some point. Not to mention that I’m lucky my husband will come home at the end of the day. But all this doesn’t change that it’s hard.
Every life has it’s struggles and every person has their limitations. I get all that. And I’m not saying it’s not rewarding and I’m not happy. I’m just saying that it’s hard. Harder than I expected. And I wish I were better at it. I wish I was more patient, more understanding. I wish I could accept my shortcomings and praise my strengths.
There will be harder days than this, as well as easier ones (I hope). I feel guilty complaining because I know I am beyond blessed. But some days I just want to be able to say its a hard job that I have without it meaning any more or any less, just period.