I sometimes hear from from friends or acquaintances, "I read your blog, don't worry it gets easier."
I marvel at that. My job, Mother of an Active Baby, sometimes feels monumental, impossible, exhausting. That's what I usually write about. Funny things, tough times, surprises, failures. I write but a few lines on how I observe my son still himself as he gazes skyward and follows a turkey vulture with his eyes. Just a passing sentence on how he picks at the clothespins ripping them apart until one gets stuck on his pointer finger, ow, ow, ow, MOMMA, HELP! Just a note how how he cracked his head on a toy cymbal during family time last night, sat in my lap, mouth wide open, no sound coming out his cry was so deep, until he ran halfway across the room away from me, turned back and collapsed again in my lap, woeful. Oh wait, I was writing about the easy stuff, the wonderful stuff.
It's all pretty good.