I had so much fun with the boys last night. We worked on puzzles together, we colored on our chalkboard door, and I spent most of the evening crawling around on the floor pretending to be a dog, answering questions like, “Are you hungry, puppy? Do you want some yogurt or some carrots?” in my best dog voice. I even wagged my “tail” on command. Demeaning? No, not a bit. Empowering, is what it was. My boys were having a blast, and my doggy self was the star of their fun.
I was telling Joe the other day that this whole parenting thing seems to be getting harder instead of easier, for lots of reasons. Will can be demanding when he’s not feeling well or he’s tired, and Andrew is at an age where he wants to help me with everything. As a result, I always have one boy or the other quite literally right under my feet. And if I do manage to get a free moment, it’s only a moment, because they’re fighting over something within seconds. It’s all very exhausting.
But then there are nights like last night, when I’m smiling and laughing with my sons, and those moments are the reason that I wanted to be a parent in the first place. When I was pregnant, it was those idyllic moments I imagined. And although the reality is sometimes much more stressful and exhausting than I ever could have dreamed, it’s amazing how one really fun night can cancel out a thousand rough ones.