I believe that our three children (as are every child in the world) were born loved. The love we have for our children naturally kicked in the moment we learned of their existence and their arrival were events of highest anticipation wrapped in overwhelming love. I had hoped, quite possibly in some kind of fairy tale dream world, that with this love, managing the ins and outs of the day does not get the best of my husband and I, and that our everyday will not drive us crazy. However, in this reality, we are challenged everyday by tantrums, curiousity and growth.
We wake up (on most mornings) to a thousand cuddles (and on other mornings, to spin kicks and punches to the face). We dance to the upbeat (or hectic) rhythm of the morning routines and give ourselves an imaginary pat on the back if we leave the house on time (because, of course, who has time for a real one?). We think we have everything all figured out only to discover that our children have outdone us yet again. They challenge our creativities and knowledge with their questions (that gets weirder every time), they test our patience and self-control, and they surprise us with experiences wrapped in an erratic mixture of immense joy and complete frustrations all rolled into one.
But… isn’t it amazing how these small creatures can bring out the worst in us, have us wrapped around their fingers, leave us emotionally and physically drained and yet our love for them only grows bigger as the tensions roll by and surprises keep coming in?