What I Tell Myself

 This morning was frusterating, right off the bat.  Izzy, being two, can't whisper to save his life, so when he comes into my room in the morning he announces his presence full volume.  Since I am not a morning person, this would be bad enough if I was the only one sleeping in there, but Simeon still sleeps in our room, so I am always worried about him waking up.  This morning Izzy came in as usual with Malachi.  Aaron hadn't left for work yet, so I tried to send them downstairs while I put on some socks and such so they wouldn't wake the baby.  Malachi went right down, but Izzy got it in his head that I needed to carry him downstairs, and he absolutely refused to go down by himself.  Finally, I grabbed him up (probably more angrily than was necessary) and plopped him in front of Daddy and then went back up to get my glasses and the other things I needed to begin the day.  It is beyond my understanding how the kid can walk out the front door and down the street all by himself without a qualm, and yet he can't go down the stairs alone.  This morning was one of those mornings when I questioned the sanity of having children.  The weird thing is that no matter how crazy it feels at times when I'm with them, I always know that I'd feel more crazy without them (just in a different way...like a quieter way).  On a day like this, I remind myself that in twenty years, or even ten or five, none of this will matter anymore.  They'll all be bigger, older.  In twenty years they'll have their own lives.  And if I'm lucky they'll have their own kids.  Kids that are JUST LIKE THEM!  And then I'll just sit back and laugh and say it was all worth it.  That's what I tell myself.