(Please excuse the poor writing as of late. I used to compose posts as I fell asleep; but as of, well, the last nine weeks or so, I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. Therefore, the quality of the writing has shown why I chose a mathematical career instead of one that is writing-based.)
I've been thinking about the recent post in which I admit that I don't yet love being a mom, and may in fact never love it. But here's the big realization: I think that this is might be okay. Please remember: my saying that I don't love being a mom in no way implies that I do not love Rhett. I love him more than I could have imagined. Sometimes it still makes me cry how much I do actually love him.
I guess it's like serving a mission. I can't expect that everyone who goes on a mission will love every second of the door knocking, incessant walking, language learning, and all the other not-so-fun-stuff. Two of my best girlfriends (ahem, yes g and r, I'm talking about you girls), will definitely attest to this. However, as long as they did the best they could, what more could you, or anyone, ask?
That's how I'm approaching this motherhood thing. I love my baby. I want nothing more than his total happiness, mingled with good health. And I'll do everything in my power to make those things come true for him, even if I don't love every second of it. Maybe this smile means I'm doing okay so far.
Or maybe it just means Chuck's tongue is really that funny.