Breaking even

For every grumpy, face-covering moment, there’s ten happy, laughing-for-no-reason-at-all moments.

 

For every bratty screaming fit because he can’t put a dog in the washing machine, there’s dozens of sweet kisses on his “buuu-peeee’s” nose.

For every dirty diaper, there’s a clean, chubby little set of pancakes on the other side.

For every room completely destroyed with his toddler tornado of terror, there’s his OCD moments where he has to stop, clean up after himself and then yell “ALL BETTER!” (right before decimating the room again).

For every cold or illness, there’s hours of cuddles, snuggles, needing to be held and one-on-one time.

For every dollar of daycare (and there are a lot of those these days), there’s an immeasurable gain in joy with the constant sound of toddler laughter ringing throughout the house.

For every day missed at work with a sick baby, there’s a day spent with the most incredible little man God has ever created (other than Troy Verner).

For every episode of Gigolos and  American Horror Story I watch days later, after coworkers completely ruin them for me, there’s hours spent on the floor wrasslin’ with a little boy who says “beam” instead of “bam” when he fake-punches you and “hiii-yoooo!” instead of “hiiiya!” when he fake-karate-chops you.

For every wine tasting with friends that’s missed, there’s apple juice and crackers snuggled up on the couch watching Yo Gabba Gabba with a little man who loves yelling “BEE-BAY WANCE!” every time he sees DJ Lance Rock on screen.

Many moons ago, I had a conversation with my sexy husband where we both agreed that breaking even would be ideal with parenthood.  There are obviously obstacles, stressors, sacrifices, difficult times and all of that jazz with raising a family.  We figured that, if we could make the good stuff equal the bad, we’d be set.

Let me tell you friendz: the hard stuff doesn’t even out with the good; the bad stuff doesn’t even register on the radar 99% of the time.  When I look back on the past 18 months with Bean, all I remember are the hugs, the tiny hands, the first smiles, the farting in the bath tub because we’re both laughing so hard (him – not me), the tiny hand wrapped around my index finger which counts as holding my hand when we’re out walking, the huge, face-brightening smile that explodes across his face when we come into his room in the morning and after nap time, the tiny voice saying “lurb yous daaaa-deee”.

Nope – totally not breaking even.  Totally ahead.