Welcome to Parenthood

Sometimes I feel like I am not far from crazy. Not anti-depressant crazy or plain nuthouse crazy, but my kids sometimes make me want to scream and do bad things crazy. I get tired of yelling at my son. "No Bryce!" "Stop that!" "You're gonna fall!" "Get off her!" "No bite!" "No hit!" "No touch!" "Don't do that!" He hears that one so often he mimics us perfectly, down to the finger point and serious face. "Don't do that, Mommy!"

"Welcome to parenthood," My sister-in-law says with a smile. She's at the beginning fringe of fighting teenage adolescence once again with her 14 year old son's recent immersion into his freshman year, high school sports, older girls, and hickeys. I laugh at her stories but somewhere inside I cringe because as much as I want to deny it or fight the future, truth is I will be hit with a triple whammy of puberty, horomones, and a mothers heartache. A sophomore son and freshman twins all at the same time. I know the advantage me and my brother used to take of my parents! Doesn't everyone like to think they're smarter, cooler, more capable of handling the tougher issues, when really we are all just finding our way in the dark.

It seems too far away to have to worry about now, when my toddler hasn't even celebrated his second birthday yet and I am still shit deep in dirty diapers, crying fits, and countless feedings from almost 7 month old twins. It. Never. Ends. I rarely get a break, and when I do it takes me half the time I'm away to begin to relax. So by the time I'm having a good time, its time to return to my reality. Which of course I wouldn't change for all the money in the world, but God damn, I get tired and worn out.

Welcome to parenthood.