Last night I dreamt that I was driving and Levi was on my lap. The other two were in the back. Something distracted me and I lost control of the car. We ran off into a ditch. It was deep and full of water. As the water started trickling into the car I knew I had to act. I got Adam out of his seat and got Levi. I unrolled the window and as the water came gushing in we fought our way out. We were okay. 1 minute back on the side of the road later, I realized I'd forgotten Caleb. My sweet Caleb. I jumped back in the water and got him out in time and he was just dandy.
I woke up feeling incredibly guilty. 9 hours later an I haven't shaken the feeling that I'm a horrible person and mother. I'm suddenly terrified that I don't love my kids as much as other moms do. Would I be one of these miraculous women who lifted a car to get her baby out?
I started thinking about loving my kids. And I really really do. I adore them. I think I could lift a car. I think maybe it's the boy to girl ratio that throws me. I definitely don't pretend to understand the running/jumping/wrestling sex. I don't understand why yelling is a valid form of communication. I don't understand why Kyle and I are woken up with cannon balling children. And oh the fighting!!!!
I love those boys, but what if they annoy me more than 50% of the time? Does that make me a bad parent or simply a parent?
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