Be careful what you wish for...

Yesterday my facebook status update described what I "wish"ed were easier about watching the boys at gymnastics (ie not having to chase Andrew around the viewing room). I immediately received a loud and blaring warning from my self-conscious: "Be careful what you wish for."

Andrew is at that hard age between one and two--I think it is the hardest age, at least until he becomes a teenager. He is into everything. He ambles up the cabinet drawers and sits on my stove top searching for snacks (which I need to move). He runs off and finds (makes) disasters wherever he goes. He is too young to formally discipline, yet he needs constant correcting. He is constantly moving. He is exhausting.

BUT he is SO sweet. He spontaneously uses his newly learned word, "hugs," and gives me full-body, full-strength squeezes around my neck. With concerned looks, he pats my back (like I do his) when he perceives that I am upset. He smiles at me, and then gives me wet little babykisses right on the lips. He demands, "up" and will cuddle right into my lap. His little body is so precious, words can't express my joy. I am his absolute favorite person. Be careful what I wish for.

As with everything, there is always the greener pasture, the other side of the fence. It is always so easy for me to look forward to a time when things will be easier. I suppose the challenge is always to take the good with the bad and enjoy it in the present moment. Pudding in the dogs fur, and high heels in the bathtub water are a small price to pay for the joy of his current, curious, exploratory, affectionate, mommy-worshipping age.