Having a toddler is completely insane. Or he is insane. Or maybe I am. I'm not really sure anymore.
A trip to the grocery store is a freaking nightmare of wrestling a 31 pound kid amongst nasty stares from strangers as I leave with half or less of my list in my cart.
I am forever tripping over various blocks and toy cars. My car has a hodgepodge of mismatched socks, crayons, and goldfish crackers.
But then at night as we get ready for bed time for babies, he is the sweetest and most loving little guy I've ever seen. He's not always excited to go to bed, but he will walk to his room most of the time (albeit with slumped shoulders sometimes) and then blow me at least five kisses as I tell him I love him and to have sweet dreams.
And that sweetness goes a long way in me being able to go to bed knowing it's going to start all over again tomorrow.
I am so tired but I wouldn't trade this motherhood thing or my crazy son for anything in the world.