as Mom

Some days are just hard. Sometimes it's really hard to be a Mom, let alone a good one. Then there are days when it is much easier. Lately, what I find most humorous about myself being a Mom is that I keep yelling at the boys to stop yelling. I mean, how much sense does that make really? I'm frustrated that they're yelling, but then I chuckle after I yell at them to stop yelling. Such is life, I guess.

My adventurous, curious, adorable, fun, funny little three year old has started tacking "Why?" on to everything I say. This is new for us. The older two never asked why all the time. Maybe once here and there, but one answer to the Why? and they were done asking. Not my Jonyn. He's decided he needs to know Why? everything. I love how this three year old little person says everything, too.

I asked, "Jo, are you my boy?"
He says, "Yep. Shows. Is."

He sees the fish and says, "Mommy, feesh hungee."

I ask where my shoes are (that he so lovingly hid put away), he says, "I weally don't. know." That was a hoot the first time.

One day, he randomly said, "Hey!! No faiw!!." That, too, was hilarious, since it's not a phrase we say a ton.

"Jo, did you toot?"
"No, I fawt" (because apparently, there's a difference).
(p.s. I have all boys).

He pauses between words as he's learning to say them a little more properly.

Also, all matters that are potty related are very important to that boy, no matter whose potty issue it is. And he's just always so darn proud of the rest of us for using the potty. 

Sometimes, this parenting gig actually is all that I thought it would be. Just not as often as I would like. Because, most days, as I sit here largely pregnant with my fifth baby, nearing 30 in a body I don't hardly recognize that hurts in some fashion all the time, I am just a cranky old bat who wants this baby out and who wants more sleep and who is hungry for nothing in this house, and I take it out on those I love the absolute most in this world.

And so, bullet prayers, I'm learning to shoot them up when I start being who I don't want to be. Everyday, always, I am a work in progress. Sometimes, I think I'm failing, taking more steps backwards that forwards. So, I go to bed at night, and think...ok, I am going to sleep well, and tomorrow, I will be in a good mood. Every night, lately, I pray it over and over.

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