I found that dealing with my son for the first few years of his life was hard, partly because I was so obsessed with being the perfect parent and expecting him to be the perfect little baby.
He was genetically high-strung, a light sleeper, physically precocious and a demanding little ruffian most of the time. I restrained myself from dashing his head against the wall because 1) he was beautiful, 2) he was smart, 3) he was clever and 4) my husband and his parents afforded me some relief.
I went back to work part-time when he was a year and a few months: I hired a terrific Scotswoman to look after him three days a week. We were all much happier, and I treasured the time I did spend with him. My salary enabled me to pay for weekly cleaning help. The division of labor made us all much happier.
When my daughter was born, just shy of five years later, it was a pleasure. i was calmer and she was naturally calmer.
Having the two was truly much easier.