Cash has slept through the night in his own bed once in the last 6 months.
There are days (and nights) that I can't wait for this stage to be over. I'm over the fighting, the tantrums, the sleep-less early hours of the morning, the feeling that I can't just enjoy time spent with him.
And then I read a heartbreaking tweet from someone I've followed for years - a close friend of hers lost her 2 year old daughter in an accident.
The thought of him suddenly not being here devestates me.
So I choose to be thankful. Thankful for his trail of messes, his 'not so quiet' inside voice, his stubborn will, his refusal to talk more than absolutely necessary.
I love that boy - sometimes its hard to remember why, especially as I sweep the kitchen floor for the 4th time of the morning. But I do.
And I'm thankful for the good times...and the not so good.
[phone picture from last night - poor guy had a nightmare and insisted on leaving the light on.]