Sometimes I wonder why I'm going through this. This long battle to have another baby. I mean, on the surface I know that my son is awesome and that having a second baby will only double that awesomeness.
Below the surface though, 3-1/2 has been kicking my butt. He doesn't listen, cries for no reason, has been waking me up in the middle of the night to ask for a kiss (cute, but annoying after the fifth night in a row of interrupted sleep). And I'm starting to wonder if I'm cut out for two kids.
Mixed in is the chronic pain I live with. When I'm having a flair up, I have very little patience. Add in a little boy who refused to nap, took off his underwear instead of pulling his pants up, let the dog out of his crate, and you have a scenario that I am at the end of my rope with.
These times are so fleeting, I know this, and I also know that these phases only seem endless when you are in the middle of one. But still, sometimes I can't help but wonder if the reason I don't have two kids, is because the universe doesn't think I can handle it.