It's a funny thing about kids...

I don't know why anyone wants to be a parent. You have to wake up early every day, feed them, bathe them, pay for daycare, totally rearrange your priorities, and worry about the fact that they can pronounce "giraffe" with perfect clarity but struggle with "cat." If you look at it like a business proposal, from an effort and reward standpoint, parenthood a terrible idea. There's nothing but effort put in and nothing but more effort required and for what? To see them win a few science fairs? For them to realize the dreams you let go? To have someone around to make sure you don't get shoved in some cut-rate nursing home in your old age? It makes no sense. None.

And yet, I wouldn't trade being a mother for anything. That's what's so crazy about the whole thing. Story is two-and-a-half now. He's talking pretty well, thanks to his speech therapist. We're having some trouble in the morning because he wants to choose his own shorts to wear. I'll pick out something that makes him look cool and he'll kick me until I allow him to pick out something that makes him look like a huge dork, usually to wear with his rain boots - if he can find them. He likes music a lot and dances those crazy little kid dances all the time. He found some giant bouncy balls that he likes to throw, and I let him because he's already pretty much broken everything there is to break in the house. It's fun until he starts throwing them at me. I spend most of my time balled up on the couch covering my head and swatting him with a magazine to keep him at bay. He loves to read (or for me to read to him). Lately it's "Winnie the Pooh," whom he calls, simply, "Poop." It melts my heart.

I can't say that I'm the type that goes for cuteness. Puppies are cute but I'd just as soon take them to the pound as take care of them. So I know that it's not the cuteness that I love. I'm not into cuddling and really prefer my space and would appreciate Story respecting that sometimes too, so it's not that contact I enjoy. He embarrasses me to death every time we go somewhere because he's so wild and I'm so bad at discipline, so it's not like I enjoy showing him off. I can't say what it is. I love my kids so much and for no reason at all, I just do. I love what they do and what they say and how they are. I would love to take credit for it, but they're so different and unique that I know that they are just themselves and I love them even more. I just wanted to have kids so I could see how attractive they would be. And now I'm stuck loving them so much that I'm terrified that something will happen to them and that the "giraffe"/"cat" thing is a symptom of something serious. It's inexplicable.