Passing the baton

I am a mother of three. There are a few things I feel that I have learned about this mothering bit since I have done it non-stop for six and a half years. I think I know my kids. And then they change. And in this case, we get to start all over again, FOR THE THIRD TIME.

PJ has passed the torch. She has relinquished her crazy, absolute stubbornness, tantruming and hysterical self. She has moved on to a more mature, although still spicy and headstrong, little girl. And somehow, KP got knocked over the head with it. Or maybe PJ wiggled out of the insane suit in the middle of the night and put it on him. Or maybe KP got it by osmosis. However he got it, he got it good.

And today, he has beaten me into the ground. I am sitting here feeling like a wrung out wet towel, there is no more to give. There is no more energy to chase him down for a new diaper or a wipe of the face or to keep him seated at the table for lunch or to keep him from grabbing a handful of dry pasta noodles and shoving them into his mouth or keep him contained in the mall play area or to take the sharp knife out of his hand he just ran off with.

He is making it easy for me too see…he will be the last of the line.

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