As difficult as this parenting thing has been for me so far, I wouldn’t trade it. Well, maybe the severe sleep deprivation and can-barely-hold-anything bladder. But if I was being completely honest, in a weird and wonderful way, I’d have to say that I still enjoy the sleepless nights, the poopy on fingers, and being able to fully appreciate solo hot showers.
Parenting is feeling the magic in those moments during the middle of the night where it’s just you and your baby and the rest of the neighbourhood is quiet. It’s crying from exhaustion and it’s feeling on top of the world because you’ve had six hours continuous sleep.
It’s getting to know your child – the fun times, the scary bits and the tantrums. It’s understanding their mood and what they mean when they point and say that word you still can’t figure out but seem to know what they want anyway. It’s all down to bonding. That amazingly special thing that you might not have felt at first sight, but once you do it may as well be established in stone because it’ll be there forever.
It’s feeling frustrated when you’ve made a meal and it’s immediately thrown on the floor. It’s being the one that they not only want, but need at 3am. It’s being reached for by short arms and a sleepy head resting on your shoulder. It’s being told you are loved for the first time. It’s all of their firsts and all of their lasts.
In one sentence I’d sum it up by saying that parenting is the good, the bad and the completely outlandish. And I’m so very appreciative of the fact that I get to experience every last bit of it.