Time is so weird and elastic. I remember thinking when he was a terrible sleeper that it would never end. I'd be stuck in Mom Hell with a crying baby forever. Forever seems to have a short shelf life with kids.
I hated his teen age years. We argued all the time. Mostly about stupid stuff. Sometimes things that stemmed from his resentment at being the oldest and in charge a lot of the time. I don't think I truly understood his feelings then. I have no siblings. It just seemed natural to ask the other driver in the house for help with the increasingly complicated household we became.
Now he's a responsible adult. He's a great dad and good husband. He's become thoughtful and a genuinely neat person. I'm so proud of him.
And now it is so nice to just kick back of an evening, have a drink with him, and talk. No more fraught conversations. Just discussions about the state of the world. Or his job. Or his brothers. Things you discuss with other adults.
And he talks about being in Dad Hell with crying babies. And I tell him it doesn't last nearly long enough.
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