Confusion

At once I cherish early morning grunts,
and scrunched up faces that follow slow motion stretches...
all the while wondering if I could head off to work,
(as opposed to a morning nap),
once middle of the night feedings conclude
in a beautiful swaddled boy.

I find myself delighting in sweetness,
yet longing for the complexity of working life.
Admonished by the silent voices of women present and past
who caution against longing for what you don't have,
especially in the shadows of great comfort.
I confront them with timidity,
suggest in inaudible tones that my life is not as easy as it appears.
They seem to listen, though only halfheartedly,
perhaps lamenting that despite their efforts,
I'll still have to learn most lessons on my own
(even, maybe especially the hard ones).

How does one build a balanced life?
How does one find settlement
where agitation lives?