we're strange allies with warring hearts

My son is stubborn.

This is not a shocking fact as I myself am quite stubborn. I am also very independent and have often felt like I just need to take care of everything myself. It is not a comment on anyone else as much as it is on me. My husband will quietly take care of something for me and it still catches me off guard more often than not.

S and I are doing swim lessons. It's a fantastic set-up and I'm so glad for both of us to be learning. It is going to make hanging out in my parents' new pool much more relaxing for me knowing that he has some respect for water and understanding of how to be in it. However, the lesson time is literally thirty minutes every week when I feel like a sucky mom. S doesn't want to do any of the stuff when it's time to do it. He won't blow bubbles in the water. He freaks out when I am helping him learn how to do a back float. The one thing he will actually do is the spider crawl along the wall because it leads to a slide that he goes down. And he will glide under water from the slide and be super excited about it. He also likes the part where he jumps in and goes under water, but there's a little song we sing and he sits on the edge with his shoulders slumped while all the other little kids are making the fishy motions. Such a little stinker.

I have been naming his body parts since I started dressing and bathing him. He has never seemed like he was listening, much less actually caring about what I was saying. Then all of the sudden tonight, he knew them all! He showed me his head, eyes, nose, mouth, shoulders, chest, arms, legs, hands, and feet. The best part was the whole time he was looking at me like, "Duh, Mom, of course I know where that is!"

That kid is something else. And I love him to pieces!

Yesterday, as we were driving home from our son's little birthday party, I asked K how old he was again. He looked at me strangely and said he was 33. I told him I kind of knew that but every so often I have to stop and think about how old each of us are. After I turned 25, I stopped keeping such arduous track. I love my birthday and have no problem getting older, but I think sometimes I think of us as the ages we were when we first met. I was 25 and he was 27. And now we are 31 and 33 and we will have a two year old son tomorrow.

...

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.