The following entry was written by Chris of The Big Yellow House

Before I had children I thought love meant really, really like. I loved lots of things. I loved coffee. I loved my hair, on a good day. I loved sleeping in until noon. I loved a good book.

Then I had my first child and realized how inadequate that word love is. The feeling I felt for my child was in no way comparable to what I previously defined the word love as. From the moment my son drew his first breath I knew that I would trade my life for his, without hesitation.

I learned that love is giving of your whole self, but asking for nothing in return. Love is feeding your infant baby in the middle of night illuminated only by the moonlight. Love is holding and singing to that colicky baby, when you would really like to toss him out the window.

I learned that love is appreciating your child's drawing of you, even when it is on your newly painted wall. And waiting to clean it off when she isn't looking. Love is going to see the Wiggles in concert. And reveling in each and every moment of the concert because your daughter thinks you are cool. You know it won't last forever.

I learned that love is cheering at baseball games in the scorching heat and freezing cold, listening to endless "fascinating" facts about Bionicles, and making hot chocolate with mini-marshmallows. Love is playing Candyland until your brain matter oozes out of your head, and then playing again.

I learned that love it seeing past your preteens attitude and remembering when you were that age, though you swear you were never as moody. Love is knowing when to laugh, when to ignore, and when to reprimand. Love is choosing the latter as infrequently as possible and then second guessing yourself when you do.

Love is cleaning up vomit, kissing "boo-boos", googling every childhood disease that has ever been documented each time your child has a fever--and being convinced that your child has them all. Love is handing over a sum of money equivalent to the gross national income of a third world country to you pediatrician.

Love is what makes a mother get up out of bed in the morning to face another day of toddler tantrums and dirty laundry. Love is getting paid for you efforts in sticky kisses, and thinking you are overpaid. Love is what makes you try every day to be a mother better than you were the day before. Love is your children allowing you that opportunity.

Though there are still days I'd trade my life for a good cup of coffee.