Sometimes I wish I could go back in time. When I first became a mom, I had no clue what I was doing. Combine that with holding myself and my firstborn up to unattainably high standards and it pretty much caused an implosion within myself. I recently read somewhere about a mom who feels as though each couple of years, another layer of fog lifts and she feels more secure and confident in parenting. I totally related to that. I have learned so, so much over the last ten years. Ten years. Oh my, I can hardly believe my firstborn is going to be ten this year! Where has the time gone, and yet, sometimes those years felt like they would never end.
I distinctly remember one time, shortly after I had my second baby, sitting on the middle of my kitchen floor, crying my eyes out. I couldn't do it. I had a 20 month old, active, rambunctious boy, with a new, month-old baby. They were both in diapers and to breastfeed the baby, I had to lock all three of us in a bedroom that contained only a bed and some toys so that I didn't have to jump up mid feed and take the toddler out of a danger zone. It was hard. I felt overwhelmed, tired, and I had absolutely no clue who I was or how I got there.
The days felt so unendurably long. I'd wake up in the morning and literally dread my day. I was hard on myself, felt constantly guilty about everything, and it didn't get better. My toddler became a little boy and my baby became a toddler. I freaked out over every little thing, stayed in an endless funk, and was way too hard on my oldest because he wasn't behaving the way I thought he should be.
Then came the school years and another baby. Then a decision to homeschool. And it's only very, very recently, like in the last six months, that I'm finally, finally starting to feel a wee bit confident and at peace with the whole parenting gig. I'm finally learning to let go a bit on the unrealistic expectations, to feel a bit more like I can breathe. I feel like I can enjoy life again, like I finally at long last remember who I am.
Think back over the last ten years, I wish I could go back in time, and if I could, this is what I would tell myself:
Don't freak out over every little mistake they or you make. You'll remember none of those mistakes years later. If perchance you do remember some of those mistakes - let them go. It's never too late to start over.
This too shall pass. The sleepless nights, the tantrum years, the potty training, the weaning, the picky eating - it all either gets better or ends. They do grow up.
Let go of the guilt. Truly. It only eats you up and steals your joy. Let it go.
Enjoy them. I hated when people said that to me but it's the absolute truth. I wish with all my heart I could go back and soak up every minute of their baby and toddler years with my fresh new outlook. (But only for a day...)
Keep low expectations, but pick your battles. Rules are necessary but not everything needs to have a rule. Pick what is important to you and work on that. Giving in on things you don't care about once in a while will not make or break them. Giving in on things that matter to you deeply? Don't. Stand your ground and stay firm.
Love, love, love them. I was much too harsh and impatient (and I am still working on this, but I feel softer now) and wish I told them more that I love them. I wish I had hugged them and kissed them more. (And I realize I still have them with me, so I try to implement this every day.)
I realize this all makes me sound like an old lady with no kids left in my nest, but I do honestly feel like I have some perspective now that I didn't have before. And it also reminds me to take my own advice and enjoy them while they're still under my roof.
It's no big secret or anything. I think it's just that somewhere along the way I learned that it's okay. It's okay for me to mess up, pick myself up and try again. It's okay if my kids mess up. It's okay to chill out and try to have fun with them rather than constantly waiting for bedtime to come. (Does anyone else do that?) But I think it's also that to have three tiny kids (a four year old, a two year old and a newborn) shouldn't be underestimated. It is hard, tough work. It all starts to get better when they become more independent and reasonable. I just wish I'd shown myself and them a lot more grace in the middle of it all back then.
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