You just love them.

Jack one summer/fall day. Age 2.

 And so I lay my son back down in his crib with mismatched jammies because he peed (not pooped thank God) through his pants. He’s been waking up during the night for the past few nights because he has been having poo problems (I use this euphemism partly because it is less gross and partly because I can’t spell dihareeeeaaa).

His butt is on fire and every time I change his diaper he tells me it hurts because now he can talk and tell me things like “I sad” when he is crying. I feel like my heart is being ripped out when my little self-aware two-year-old tells me he’s sad in the midst of his tears. I take him to the kitchen and give him some Tylenol and get him some Gatorade, which he thinks is juice, and I pick him up and he says, “Thank you, Momma.” This makes me want to bottle his sweetness and treasure it forever.

Photo Credit: NDK Jack one winter day. Age 2.

Jack and I one summer day. Age 9 months or so.

Finn one winter day. Age 7 months.

When just about any sickness comes into my home I end up calling my doctor’s office. I am sure they think I am some kind of idiot because I have phone anxiety as it is and they only answer the phone about a fourth of the time. The other three fourths of the time it goes to an answering machine. So it’s kind of like Russian roulette with whether or not you’re going to talk to a real person. In those times when the nurse comes on the phone I instantly start to blunder, “Uhhh uhhh, my name is Hannah and I am calling about my son Jack. He’s ummmm….he’s two…. And he um, I called yesterday. He has had the poops (only I actually say dihaareeaaa because it would be really stupid to say the poops to a professional). I always assume that they have so many patrons that they won’t remember who I am, when in reality the nurse is probably like, “Oh, here is the weekly call from that frantic mother who thinks that an antibiotic can cause mouth sores and rice cereal makes a baby puke…”

Being a parent kind of makes you a little insane. Suddenly all of your Facebook profile pictures are of someone else and your daily conversation topic is what color/consistency/frequency your kid’s bowel movements are. You are endlessly folding tiny clothes, laughing at Ming Ming’s adorable voice, wondering what could be so exciting about reading a book of pictures labeled “excavator, giant excavator, dump truck…

But the thing is, you really truly are 100% in your kid’s corner. If you could be the one with the sore bum, you would be. If you have to go out in the middle of the night to get gas relief drops for your baby (even though they may not really do anything), you’ll do it. Will you take your kid to the ER only to be told nothing is wrong? Of course. Will you feel defensive when someone else doesn’t recognize your child’s genius? Absolutely. And though you will fail as a parent, say hurtful things, give bad advice, tell them things that aren’t true (even though you think it is), one thing will remain true: you have your kid’s back and you would literally fight a bear to protect them. Kind of puts a little perspective on Matthew 7:11, doesn’t it?

Jack one winter day. Photo credit NDK. Age 2.