October 1, 2002 - Tuesday
There are days I spend with the two boys, and they seem to be coming more frequently lately, when I just feel defeated. Maybe it's that I'm tired. Or maybe it's that I'm just tired of listening to the irrational complaints of a two-year-old boy so regularly and not having a confident solution to dissuade it. Maybe it's Harry's increasing independence and greater ability to do things that are more silly and less cute. Maybe there's a lingering sense that all I have to do to keep the two boys entertained and happy is to stay one step ahead, one idea ahead, one distraction ahead, and all will be fine. But, they and their circumstances are gaining on me, especially when there are two of them at once.

When I talk to friends casually about how things are going, if the conversation goes beyond the obligatory "how's it going?"-"fine, and you?" it's not uncommon for the two kids to come up. When I'm talking to people who have had a couple of kids and I'm likely to allude to the mixed blessings of spending so much time with a two-year-old and younger brother. The most consistent response I get is something of a knowing chuckle and, while I'm nor sure why, it usually catches me a little off guard. Was I expecting intrigue, fascination, sympathy, or constructive criticism? I don't know, but of course there's no intrigue about it. The chuckle speaks to the all too common experience of parenthood that most people look back on with somewhat greater fondness for having gone through than actual relishing of the time spent. Perhaps I will feel like that, too.


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