As I look back over the posts I’ve written since The Kid came along–or just think back over the past couple of weeks–I gain a sense of how bipolar the nature of this whole child-rearing enterprise is. Life is a day-to-day operation with a little one around, and I don’t do so well with those terms. Forced into living in discrete moments, I’ve rebelled and panicked and pitched tantrums. But sanity, the light at the end of the tunnel, appears to be more of a reality as he grows. Especially since his most recent bout of fussiness and unpredictability was revealed to be due to just that–a growth spurt, a discovery I made after blaming it on everything else first. Besides being day-to-day, life now is also about trial and error. I’m not so fond of the error part.

But when the clouds lift, oh do they lift. The past couple of days have been good to me and The Kid, with him now on Prevacid and Mylocon to deal with all the digestive troubles his parents passed on to him, and the weather allowing us to take the BOB out on long walk/runs, and my growing confidence behind the wheel spurring us on to Trader Joe’s and Target and other adventures. And when times are good, I wonder how I could have ever been so down; then I remember that I may be reminded soon, during the next inevitable rough patch. And I also remember this…

Part of the problem, as The Sis so wisely put it the other day, is that The Husband and I had a good thing going before TK arrived. We didn’t have him so that he could meet a need or fill a hole; he was more an overflow of our relationship. And what a relationship it was (is): we happen to really like each other, and like doing things together. We were that annoying couple who grocery shopped and went to the gym in tandem. Now that TK is here, we’re separated more often (apparently you’re not supposed to leave them at home alone? Who knew?). So the adjustments we’ve had to make, due solely to him, haven’t always been welcome ones.

Then there’s the routine-oriented, self-motivated living I’ve done up to this point–my hatred of interruptions and change. God has dealt with me on this matter throughout my life, especially in recent years. And through those dealings, I have learned a plain truth: I am never broken without it being for good. So I must be in for something really good, because there are pieces of me lying all over this damn house. But also here are one who is great at holding me, and One who is perfect at putting me back together. So there’s that.

Life has a deeper emotional undertow now, which means the highs are higher…and the lows are lower. And every day brings some of each. I’ve learned that it doesn’t help to narrate the tough times with an interior monologue peppered by profanity–maybe I can give that up for Lent? I’ve also learned that for all the interruptions and change brought about by The Kid, there are the moments when The Husband holds him beside me, and I see their faces mirror each other, and I think it’s pretty amazing that I’ve been allowed to be a part of this story.