My first born son...

I am incredibly lucky that my first born is a smart man child with great communication skills and a logical brain. However when he is arguing with me and using these skills against me, I consider just how cheap it is to make a replacement child....

Please don't get me wrong....I have no regrets about having my child. I have no thoughts that I did the wrong thing having my son with my ex even though to say we don't always get along with each other would be an understatement.

As a parent you want your child to be intelligent and to have a strong sense of what they want in hopes that they will be a leader and not a follower. You dream that they will be kind and bring you hope in the world. Sometimes I think how loud my home is and how I can hardly remember what it's like not to have noise constantly in it. I am amazed that I have this little piece of my heart that runs around outside of my body on a daily basis.

However,
-when my child argues with me and his logic is sound and perfect but NOT what I want him to do- I want to pull out my hair.
-when my house is quiet and my son is at school or with his daddy- I consider leaving the house because it longer feels like my house any more.
-when my son colors me a "pretty picture" but uses my eye liner or fancy markers I sorda wanna lock myself in my bathroom and cry. Its hard not to be mad but most of the time I am able to keep my focus and remember he won't be this size for long and in  no time at all he won't want to make me art.
- when he falls asleep in the car and I get to carry his 50+ lbs of man child into the house I get frustrated right up until the point he bats those sleepy green eyes  smiles that dimpled smile and says how much he needs me.
- when I am trying to hurry and get us ready to leave the house and he is in my way and I want to tell him he is IN MY WAY... and he smiles a dirty face little boy smile and tells me how pretty I look... I melt.
- when he is tried of shopping and being whiney and fussy and making me annoyed and he looks me straight in my eyes bats his lashes and says, " Momma these dresses aren't pretty enough for you." and I KNOW he is playing me... and I KNOW he is using psychology and flattery to get his way... but yet... I cave.

From holding him when he is sick even though I know I will be exhausted the next day...to cleaning up boogers and dirt... and God only knows what from his clothes...to finding rocks and leaves in my clothes dryer... I  know I am loved, but being a boy mom is hard.