It’s hard to believe that three years ago, I gave birth to my second (and last) child. The boy that I had wanted with my first birth had finally come into the world yet I was super freaked out because I’ve heard (and seen) what boys are like when they are young and I was not prepared. Also didn’t help that my psychic told me, verbatim,
It will be an interesting time raising this child.
Now I’m not sure if she new in advance that I was going to be a single mom to this boy or that in general, he was going to be a pain in the ass but she was right none-the-less.
Since he was 6 months old (and my daughter 3 1/2), I have been on my own and though being a parent has it’s blessings, doing it on your own with two young ones (or more) is hard as hell. Shit, even doing it with one can be hard enough.
I was hoping that this one would give me patience. My daughter has always been a good kid, she never ran away from me, didn’t often scream and have temper tantrums and was always very helpful, at least until she became a bit lazy at the ripe old age of 6. Yet, I have never been good with patience, nor have I really had any and having him doesn’t make it any easier. Though today he turns three, or as he calls it….free) and I think I passed most of the terrible twos, thankfully, but recently he’s gotten these NASTY tantrums and it’s driving me up the wall. I’m thinking I will get more of the “This Is Bullshit Threes” and honestly, I’m scared.
But I often think of what my life would be like; not if I were still married but if I didn’t have them. I’m sure I’d probably be either:
And though I really have no life other than my kids, I am happy to have it as that. These two bring a lot of grey hairs into my existence but they also fill me heart with a joy and love that I never thought was possible.
Happy Birthday, Munchkin!