I just keep telling myself "Someday..."

Someday we'll have a day where there are no tantrums, no crying, and no tears.

But someday I'll look back on these early years and the tears will be my own, wondering where time has gone. 

Someday I'll be able to eat a hot meal, without a baby or toddler on my lap, stealing bites of my dinner [when they won't eat the same food off their own plate].

But someday I'll beg to hold someone else's baby while they enjoy a rare empty lap and a hot meal. 

Someday we'll get to sleep in past 6:00 in the morning on the weekends. 

But someday I'll be the one up early, hoping my kids will get up soon and spend some time with me. Or, I'll be dragging their butts out of bed at noon. 

Someday my daughter will go to bed without thirty kisses, three lullabies, and ten "I Love You"s.

But someday she'll rush out the door, busy with her exciting little life, without a hug, or a kiss, or an "I love you mom!" And I can only imagine how that will sting. 

Someday I won't get sprayed and spewed with fruit and vegetable purées, or have someone's chubby, sticky fingers clawing at my clean shirt.

But someday I'll look back and laugh at how my son never sneezed unless he was 6 inches from my face with a mouthful of baby food. 

Someday I won't have diapers to change.

But someday I'll pace and worry the first time they insist they can use a public restroom without me. 

Someday my body won't ache at the end of the day from being constantly touched, grabbed, pulled, and climbed on.

But someday, oh how I'll ache to feel those little arms around my neck one more time, those little feet climbing up my legs, or pudgy baby fingers twirling my hair. 

Someday I'll be able to talk on the phone without my toddler yelling for attention or trying to wrestle the phone away from me because she wants to talk to daddy.

But someday I'll be waiting and hoping that she'll call so I can know what she's up to, or just hear her voice. 

Someday he won't scream and cry as I buckle him in his car seat.

But someday he'll be off riding in someone else's car or driving himself, and I'll worry, and I'll be hoping he remembered his seatbelt and to be cautious and careful. 

Someday there won't be bottles to wash.

But someday we'll sit down and talk and laugh with a bottle of wine or a bottle of beer and I'll wonder how we got there. 

Someday I'll no longer constantly smell the lingering odor of baby spit-up on my shoulder.

But someday I'll think back and that's not the smell I'll remember... I'll remember the sweet scent of baby shampoo on a clean, fuzzy little head snuggled right up under my chin. 

Someday I'll get more than a few minutes of peace and quiet throughout the day, without a baby crying, or a toddler chattering away just to make noise.

But someday the house will be quiet, and I will be lonely for the sounds of little people filling the rooms. 

Someday I won't have babies anymore, I'll have children moving on to bigger and better things all the time.

But someday my heart will yearn for another baby, even though that time in my life will have come and gone. 

Someday there won't be a meltdown every time I say "no."

But someday I'll look back and wish I had said "yes" a little more often. 

Someday I won't be searching for things to do to fill up our days, or places to go so we can get out of the house.

But someday we'll all be busy with school and work and extracurriculars and friends, and I'll wonder why I didn't enjoy lazy days with my babies where we had nothing on the schedule but playing and being together. 

Someday my husband won't have to work 60 hours a week so I can stay at home with our children.

But someday we'll look back on these early years and marvel at our strength, and wonder how we survived with our family unit intact. 

Someday they won't need us every waking hour of every single day to care for them and tend to their needs.

But someday, maybe- if we're lucky- they'll have children of their own, and we'll get to kick back and enjoy the hell out of watching them navigate this crazy journey that is parenthood.