The {Never Ending} Toddler Days :: A Different Perspective

Toddlers.

Can I get an amen?

Good Lord, I feel like all I have to do is look at my three year old and he can dissolve into tears, tantrums or both. These days are hard. Add in an adventurous (read: wild) 16 month old and sometimes it feels like my entire day is spent playing defense, trying to catch up and considering my day a success if both boys made it through the day uninjured (and uninjured in my book means we didn’t have an ER visit. Come on, we have “injuries” every 5 minutes in my house).

Just the other night I ran through our day with my husband: the good, the bad and the ugly. At the end he remarked that it sounded like a pretty good day! I stared at him with incredulity. Did he not hear that I chased a 3 year old through the clothing racks of Target, wore a 16 month old in the Ergo for over an hour because he just wanted to be held, never managed to get both the kids asleep at the same time and “dinner” was scrambled eggs and waffles? How could that be a good day?

But his observations gave me pause. What kind of day did I actually have?

I woke up to a one year old dancing in his bed in excitement when he saw me walk through the door. I talked to my three year old over breakfast about all his favorite wild animals and where they live, giving me a glimpse into his little mind that never stops working. I read books to two kiddos who spent more time fighting over who got my lap than listening. I sang songs and danced in the car. I went for a walk to the park, accompanied by a curious three year old who never stopped talking about the world around him. I got one on one time with a one year old who didn’t want to nap when big brother did. I rocked a sleepy baby to sleep and he actually fell asleep on my chest. I snuggled with a three year old in bed as he cupped my face to tell me his favorite parts of the day and asked me if I am still his best friend.

Don’t get me wrong: these days are hard. I am usually texting my husband by 4pm begging him to come home or I will legitimately lose my mind. Or hide in the shower to eat leftover Easter candy. Or hand the kids waffles and drive around aimlessly because they can’t move when strapped into their car seats.

But when I took the time to look back at my day, really look back and not just complain, I have realized that the terrible two’s or the threenager days don’t define my kids. My three year old is wildly inventive, curious, imaginative, and sweet beyond comprehension. Does he have his bad days? Of course. In the grand scheme of things, though, his tantrums and challenging conversations add up to maybe 15% of our day.

So these last few weeks I have spent focused on the other 85% of his days. I focus on how sweet, kind and good he is and how I am so blessed to be his momma. The days don’t seem as long and the weeks so challenging when I just shift my perspective and I want to cry at the thought of him no longer being three. No longer wanting to cup my face in his hands to tell me about his day, no longer dressing up in wild outfits to tell me about some adventure he went on, no longer talking to me non stop in the car about every single thing he sees. I love that I get to hear every thought that goes through his mind. I love getting to snuggle with him at night, even when I am exhausted. I love getting to be his mom. And focusing on the good moments make the bad moments seem so much smaller.