We survived our vacation week and came home minus one kid. Dear little Jackson didn't have the heart to leave Grandma's house and come home with us yesterday. The husband's at work. The baby's napping. I've finished my writing assignment for the day, and put away half the camping gear/Grandma's house luggage/week's worth of traveling supplies we dropped in the living room. I've also started laundry, cleaned up most of the kitchen, and started some dishes.
I remember when Jackson was Matthias's age. I was convinced I was overworked, underpaid, and not appreciated nearly enough. Today, I've accomplished the same amount of work I was doing then, and hardly broken a sweat--not that I'm bragging.
Okay. Maybe I'm bragging a little.
My point is, I don't think parenting ever gets easier, but if my boredom today is any proof, it sure does become a lot more manageable. I think we grow to fit the demands placed on us, and that's a good thing.
But about the baby: I'm pretty sure he knows his brother is missing. The look on his face this morning said, "I'm really gonna need you to step it up and get interesting."
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