Those Are the Times

Sometimes I honestly think this kid doesn't like me.

Look at his face. He's like "meh, take her or leave her."

I mean, we're fine. But he prefers his dad most of the time. Yesterday, I actually told him "you're nice to dad! And mean to mommy! And I don't like it!" Who is the almost-three-year-old here?

There are one or two times (or more) a day when he remembers I'm the one who gave birth to him, I love him unconditionally, and he shows a little appreciation.

His dad did his hair.

Those are the moments I could just eat right up.

There are also the times I decide to be an exceptional mother and make ice cream in a bag with the kids so they will finally leave me alone and stop pestering me to make ice cream in a bag. Just like every other time I decide I'm going to be an exceptional mother, the experience is fraught with complications such as spills, fighting, and children not doing it right.

But there are always the cute little details about kids that surprise you - like the fact they ran and got gloves because their hands were cold.

And just like broccoli, I felt good having done it.