I liken the toddler years to dog years. One toddler year can feel like a lifetime. I’ve heard it said that the days are long and the years are short, well for Darren and I, we are rolling into our 16th year of raising toddlers and we are no longer just 42, we feel as though we are in our 70’s. Just like our geriatric counterparts, we complain of the aches and creaks of our bodies as we lift, strap and carry car seats, diaper bags and children. We fall into bed at a very reasonable hour, because we are tired. Our teenagers wonder why we are ‘so old’ and our friends wonder why we are in bed asleep by 9pm. They have hit their middle age stride with a second toddler-less wind. I remember when my two oldest were little and someone said, “enjoy every minute, these baby years go by so fast”, I kind of laugh because I’m still here and by my count that is only 2 dog years.
For 16 years, I have not gone to the bathroom alone for more than a minute, worry when things are too quiet, and weekly I scrape food off the wall, the floor, and the light fixtures. I bathe tiny bodies, I cut food into tiny pieces and change not-so-tiny diapers. I have been puked on more times that I can count and bodily functions no longer faze me. Each night, my husband and I tuck in each of our kids and we still can’t help but marvel at their innocent sleeping forms, especially after a day of angry tantrums revolving around the color of a sippee cup and teenage eye rolls.
Darren and I have lived here longer than most and we have watched our friends move on. We have fully embraced this exhausted I’d-give-anything-for-a-break stage for many years, and if there is one thing we have learned, is that the little things are the big things. And the things that seemed so large and looming have faded into a very distant second. My first toddlers have grown into these beautiful humans and they don’t need me so much. While this can feel empty, it is also beautifully terrifying. They are making these big choices, like college and future careers and friendships, and I can still remember the weight of their body in my arms, and their tiny toddler voice and it wrecks me.
I spent all those years drowning in fear and insecurity. I worried that my firstborn didn’t walk soon enough and my second born wasn’t reading early. And I mainly remember the nights where I would tuck them in and marvel at their perfection while fearing that I had not done enough. I would rehash my day and chalk up a litany of my failings and successes…..I made blue box mac n cheese but served it with fruit, yelled when he spilled over the dog bowl and drank the water….again, but read him the Fox in Socks book twice. A mental checklist that I would tally to make sure they would be okay. Reassurance that I had not ruined them.
And I still struggle here. I look at my now toddlers-turned-teenagers and I want to instill all the big advice. I feel this rushed and crazy feeling that I have to give them the rest of my parenting wisdom before the clock ticks down and they are gone. Like don’t drive if you are tired, and which boys to avoid, and how to pluck your eyebrows and when to stop plucking because you have now plucked way too much…and how to fill that brow line in that you didn’t stop plucking. Advice like when it comes to Axe body spray, less is more and chivalry is not dead; please open the door and be a gentleman. But there’s no way to do fit all this in, especially when the time seems to have sped up.
So I am sitting in this spot of freedom and security because the toddler years have taught me something very valuable. I now realize that it is truly the little things that add up to the big things. All the tiny needs met and the support and love are what counts. It didn’t matter that I had a bad day or they ate cereal for dinner. I have determined that I need to parent well about 80 percent of the time (yes, I made that up). I am going for a solid ‘B’ performance in parenting, and that is good. Our children do not need a perfect parent because they will never achieve being perfect children. See, there is this trap with perfection, especially when it comes to kids. Kids need to fail, they need to fall down, they need to screw up and make mistakes…and they need to see you do this first. Yes, our children need to see us have bad days and recover with a good day. They need to see us cry and then get a hug and smile. They need to see us try something and fail, and then get back up and try again. They need to know it’s okay to be 80%, because that means there’s room to learn and grow.
As I look ahead at our teenage-to-adult years in parenting, I am going to fall back upon the wisdom of the toddler parenting years. To hold onto to each precious second. I am gulping tears as I think about my oldest launching from our nest. It’s going to happen and while I can still remember the weight of her tiny body nestled in my arms, I know I’m going to have to let her go.
I have weathered these many years and I hope I have grown wiser. I hope I have learned what is most important. I once was a young mom who thought about developmental milestones, food pyramids and advanced learning. I wanted to be the perfect mom, and as hard as I tried, it was not achievable. I could never be skilled enough, fast enough, observant enough, patient enough, I could not keep up. I thought I was NOT ENOUGH.
I learned at about year 10 of toddler parenting that there is nothing clean and polished about being a parent. It is messy both figuratively and literally. I now live in this freedom that it should not be perfect and neither should I. I need to live in the moment, and respond to the now the best I can. So, I push for 80% effective parenting and know this is more than enough. This is who I am and I am good enough and so are you!
