Turns out, parenting is a lot like writing.
It’s a process. A painful, sucky, tedious process.
It’s showing up, over and over again.
Winning some moments. Failing in others.
Sometimes you’ll hate it, in the day-to-day grind. In the midst of the dreary, repetitive, mind-numbing lows. Feel compelled to start screaming and never stop.
It’s worth it for the magic moments that arise unbidden. The sheer sparkle of a cheeky smile and unbridled chuckle. Warm snuggles. Watching little legs toddle and run. Swapping jokes and banter. Marvelling at new leaps, new questions, new skills springing up overnight.
And sometimes it feels worth it once you finally sink into the sofa at night, collapsing with an exhausted smile, relishing the quiet.
It’s a marathon.
You’re never really done.
So you start again fresh each day and give your all.