Ain’t no valley low enough. Ain’t no rational way to explain the highs and lows of having a toddler to yooooooooooooou.
I recently shared this photo on Instagram (@allthefinn), which is an amazing illustration by @common_wild.
When I first saw it, it resonated with me so completely. This is such a pitch-perfect depiction of our daily lives as moms: We count down the minutes until bedtime, but then we sneak in and wake Finn up with kisses an hour after he’s asleep. We wait, excitedly, for date nights, and then we spend the entire time talking about Finn. We fall into our own beds at night, elated to finally have some quiet time off-duty, and then we spend an hour flipping through old photos of Finn on the phone.
This is the paradox that defines parenting, especially toddler parenting. When I initially shared the photo, I made a comment about how only parents can fully relate to this paradox. A few friends reminded me, rightly so, that this is not something unique to parenthood. You can feel like this about your significant other. You can feel like this about your girlfriends. You can feel like this about your own siblings.
But I do think that the peaks and valleys–the highs and lows–are particularly and uniquely acute when it comes to parenting. While I’ve certainly felt the emotional push and pulls of all kinds of love, I’ve never felt so absolutely shaken by a relationship until we had Finn.
What can I say? I am simply a puppet, and that kid holds all of my strings. (Which, of course, he totally knows.)
There have been quite a few lows over the past few weeks, as Finn has continued to suffer from persistent ear infections and other toddler-related illnesses. When he’s in the throws of sickness, he’s–how can I say this kindly?–not so pleasant.
Sona and I spent four nights in San Antonio during Valentine’s week. We were so excited to escape, but our trip was threatened by the worst snow storm of the season. Luckily, we got one of the last flights out of Chicago before the snow hit and all planes were grounded for a 24-hour period. You better believe we were in the airport, monitoring the departures board like crazy people, saying silent prayers that the airline gods would come through for us and let us get a much-needed break from toddler mom-ing.
While we were away, my parents watched Finn. We are extremely lucky to have them, and they usually jump at the chance to get him to themselves. However, he gave them a pretty hard time during a couple of the days we were away, and my mom was quick to tell me that she wasn’t sure she could handle two kids, especially if one of them is a toddler in a cranky mood. (I feel ya, Mom.)
However, now, Finn is starting to feel better. His ears are finally back to normal, and so is his attitude. I’m telling you: he’s a different kid when he’s well.
So, for the past week, we’ve hit the highs, again, which are often so much fun that they make you forget the lows. It’s a sneaky little trick those kiddos have: they will charm the PTSD right out of you.
These last few days, Finn has been especially sweet. He’s been letting us cuddle him more. He says he has a “secret” and then whispers “I love you” in our ears. He asks to be rocked for a few minutes before bedtime (something he’s NEVER let us do) and he sings Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star to us as we rock him. Then, he promptly says “All done. Time for bed.” He’s eaten dinner at the table for several days, sitting in his new big boy chair (he now says the high chair is for Little Pizza), and he actually engages with us the entire time.
Last night, we were spinning him before putting him in his crib–something we always do, as he asks for “dizzy” every night–and we were singing a silly little song: “Spin, spin–we love our Finn!” He started singing back: “Spin, spin–I love my mommas!”
Stuff like that. The kind of stuff that makes us forget, almost immediately, the kid who will throw himself on the floor in an absolute fit if we dare remove his shoes without him sitting on his play table first.
Loving a toddler is an emotional rollercoaster unlike any I’ve ever experienced. But like most rollercoasters, the thrills overtake the fear, and–against your better judgement–you get off the ride thinking, “I need to do that all over again.”
He old is he