Motherhood is punctuated by extremes.  Extreme love, extreme frustration, extreme exhaustion, extreme happiness.  Every so often, the depth of those extremes comes out of the blue and surprises me all over again.

The mood of parenthood is subject to change as frequently as the moods of the children and babies in the house, not on a time table.

One minute I’m holding a sleepy baby-toddler, his curly head burrowing against my neck, soft arms clinging to my shoulders.  The next I’m picking up the entire contents of the bathroom cupboard off the floor, and asking him why he’s standing on the table, as if he’s going to answer me.

It’s a constantly rolling wave of “Stop That” and “I Love You”.  Moments so sweet my heart aches, followed by moments so frustrating it seems like a miracle that the human race ever bothered to procreate more than twice.

Somehow though, in the midst of this ever rolling tide, the good always outweighs the bad with a fervency unmatched.  I wouldn’t trade a single moment.