Baby is sick. Hubby is sick. Older daughter feeling left out and complaining about an aching toe/ear/hair follicle that requires IMMEDIATE attention (and a Phineas & Ferb Band-Aid.) Garbage has to go out, laundry has to get done, lunch needs to be made.
Just then, the baby started wailing in her crib, and wouldn't be consoled until I lifted her out for a "bit o' rockin'." Her feverish forehead rested on my shoulder and she clasped her little arms around my neck, causing me to immediately burst into a sweat. Finally, she settled.
My "plan" had crumbled around me. I'll be honest, I had a moment or two (or 10) of bitter, bitter resentment. I don't think there's a mom out there who hasn't felt that at least once (and those who say they haven't are lying through their teeth.) Why did I have kids again? I asked myself, between clenched teeth.
Then I watched this:
It is the toughest job. Unpaid, long hours, no dental, unexpected emergencies, demanding clients. Thankless, dirty, emotionally draining tasks. Taxing physical challenges, multiple and simultaneous deadlines. No pension.
But I wouldn't trade it for anything.