As we get older apparently the good times get better with time, and the bad times sort of fade away? Sort of like that story I heard many years ago about the woman at the funeral of her husband. As her 8 grown sons (or however many she had, I remember the number was high) were carrying their Dad's casket out of the church, this woman remarked, "I enjoyed every minute raising my boys. It was pure joy."
I had 4 little sons at the time and while I truly did feel I was living my dream, every minute was not joyful. Not even every day. I probably had many bad weeks, too. But then I thought to myself, "Oh I get it....she's forgotten! She's forgotten all the day to day hard stuff."
Knowing them, they probably didn't even notice.
be out of diapers, be in school all day?