Some days, I can't even tell you how I did it. I'm not saying that to toot my own horn, or to tell you how wonderful I am. I just can't remember how I actually did everything I needed to do. There are nights when it's up and down and bottle and diaper and I am such a light sleeper these days (since motherhood) that there are mornings when I wake up and I feel like I didn't sleep at all. And then her nose is running and I check inside her mouth to see if she started teething again, and I am wiping her nose with my bare hand and trying to get her to hold still while I change her diaper and she's wanting to stand up. And I notice her diaper is soaked through and through but I don't have time to throw her in the bath before I leave for work, so I'm grabbing wet wipes like they're going out of style and wiping her legs and her belly and powdering her up while I'm trying to find pants and something with sleeves because I worry about her running nose. And I work and I miss her while at work, and I rush home on the bus and she is eating her lunch and then she runs in the living room and touches every piece of technology she knows she's not supposed to touch. And we are tired and sit on the couch and watch Sesame Street for probably too long, but it's the only thing we feel like doing, and we walk around the house like we do. And the window in my bedroom is cracked open and I show her the tree outside and it is changing color and dancing in the wind and I realize I am standing with her in that moment, just standing there watching that tree dance, and I am reminded of why people have children in the first place.
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