It's 9 p.m. I need to do the dishes; he needs me to rub his back while he falls asleep.
It's midnight, 3 a.m, and 5 a.m. I need sleep; he wakes up and needs me to cuddle him.
It's 6 a.m. I need my morning coffee; he needs me to change his diaper and cuddle on the couch.
It's 9 a.m. I need to take a shower and do the laundry; he needs me to come play with him. "Play trains with me, Mommy." "Play Play-Doh with me, Mommy."
It's 11 a.m. I need to make lunch for the kids, alone, by myself, for one minute; he needs to help.
It's 1 p.m. I need him to take a nap, because I need a nap; he does not need a nap.
It's 3 p.m. I still need to take a shower today; he needs a snack, and he needs Mommy to tell him a story.
It's 5 p.m. I need to make dinner; he fell down and got a boo-boo, and needs cuddles and an ice pack and kisses to feel better.
It's 6 p.m. I need to get dinner on the table; he needs me to help him find the perfect hiding place to surprise Daddy when he gets home.
It's 7 p.m. I need to talk with my husband, reconnect; he needs both of our undivided attention. "Let's play Superman! Mommy be Louis Lane, Daddy be the bad guy, I will be Superman!"
It's 8 p.m. I need to lie down, space out, and cruise Facebook; he needs to take a bath, brush his teeth, put his PJs on, read books, and pray.
My plans for our day look a lot different than his plans. But they aren't really his plans; they are His plans.
He wants me to comfort my little boy while he falls asleep and during the night when he is scared. He wants me to change my son's diaper. He wants me to spend time playing with my son, making memories. He wants me to put the wants of my son first, to teach him, validate his ideas, and make him feel important.
Becoming a parent means sacrificing my wants and needs for my child, just as Christ sacrificed for us. Sometimes I forget that.