When we first embarked on this parenting thing, I had high expectations about the all-natural thing. Cloth diapers! Homeopathic remedies! These hopes came from a desire to do what’s best for my baby and for God’s creation.

Then the cloth diapers gave Keegan yeast diaper rash, no matter how I washed them or how often I changed him. So we traded the cloth for the disposable.

And we discovered that he has a pretty bad case of acid reflux. Without the medication, the doctor warned that the esophagus could be permanently damaged and it would create long-term problems. So we gave up on the homeopathic and diet method to feed him baby Zantac twice a day. (Side note–he hates this medicine. Already, his dramatic side has appeared when it comes to taking the Zantac. He makes horrible faces and chokes on it. Perhaps this makes me a terrible mom, but I can’t help but laugh. I’m allowed to because he gets the dramatics from me, if you must know. Also his short temper, I fear.)

I had visions of writing every day during his nap, of planning weekly meals ahead of time so I could create healthy concoctions, of showering daily.

In some ways, I’ve surprised myself. The house isn’t as disarrayed as I suspected it would be. (This is due, in part, to the fact that Keegan loves when I strap him to me with the K’Tan–forward facing, of course; always forward facing so he could see the world less that aforementioned short temper show itself–and vacuum. My husband recently read that boys like to watch mechanical movement. I’m holding out hopes that someday Keegan will like to perform this job himself.) I love being a mother more than I thought I would. Most days, the time goes quickly. Keegan and I have a great time playing together. He may have a temper, but he has the cutest smile in the world, and he bestows it freely.

In some ways, however, I disappoint myself–when my writing goes neglected, when my frustration rises as Keegan’s temper does, when I’ve eaten something that the following day doesn’t agree with my boy. Yesterday was a rough day. Keegan was extra clingy and cranky. My husband had a client dinner, which meant I didn’t get my typical evening break (read “break” as “making dinner, collecting various burp cloths strewn throughout the house, perhaps taking the time to pee”). On days like that, I feel alone. It hits me that mothers (and fathers) can’t leave their responsibilities at work. You don’t clock out. My eating, sleeping, recreational (what? recreation?) habits all affect my son.

The only way I can survive is to enter into God’s grace. I can’t live up to the expectations I have for myself. I disappoint myself, and I will disappoint Keegan during his lifetime. I have to learn to give myself a Kit-Kat bar (but only one, because too much chocolate, I fear, makes a gassy little boy). What do they say? Love covers a multitude of errors? I suspect this may be true. I love my son more than I could imagine. Keegan loves me, even if he doesn’t understand love quite yet (who among us does?). But more than that, God’s love covers us.

So today, I bind my son to me and vacuum the floors again because I love to hear him giggle, and I rest in God’s love, even if I forget to make any vegetables for dinner tonight.