Like everyone else with a baby/toddler/early preschooler, I spent an obscene amount of time wanting to stab myself in the eye with a pencil.
No? Just me? Weird. Maybe getting knocked up when I had an eight month old was a lame idea?
And of course, people would inevtiably tell me one of two things: You're gonna miss this. It gets better.
I do not miss it. At all.
But ya'll. They were right.
They. Were. Right.
It gets better!!! It did get better!! It gets even MORE better, almost daily it seems!!
Ava is nine. Scott will be eight on April fourth. They take their own showers. (Pretend to) wash their own hair. They can read, and write. They can (for the most part) communicate their needs to me. They can (if they aren't being assholes) pick up after themselves. They can help out around the house.
You guys. THEY CAN HELP OUT AROUND THE HOUSE. They can make dinner, if you don't mind a huge mess and a few pieces of...not food...in your food.
They're like real people!!! Only smaller. And still sort of wild. A lot wild. They're like fifty percent still wild crazy toddlers. But come on!! You remember toddlers, right? How much more awesome would it have been if they were only fifty percent toddler and fifty percent real person!?!?!
It's like a tiny glimpse of heaven. Babies and toddlers and even three and four year olds suck. Sorry, but it's true. They're just awful. But older kids? OLDER KIDS ARE THE BEST INVENTION IN THE HISTORY OF EVER.
They can TALK! For real. They can use their words to get an actual message to you. You don't have to guess anymore!! You can fix anything, because you KNOW WHAT THEY WANT. "My ear hurts." "I have a tummy ache." "My friend was mean to me at school today and all the other girls laughed at me."
Well shit. That wasn't part of the plan. That's not better.