Toddlers

There are two types of moms: the mom who monitors her kids in the fast food play area and the mom who throws her kids to the wolves doesn't.  Oh, and there are a few moms like me: Somewhere in the...

Time with them is slipping through my fingers, like water wildly gushing from a faucet. I know I can do nothing to stop or alter the flow. But I need to do a better job of closing my fingers and creating a cup to drink from and savor before it flows over and passes me by.

But now we have come to what I call the sweet spot. The kids are between, say, 3 and 6. They believe in Santa and his magic. And they are suckers for all of the advertising on TV. They may be a little shy but parents or elves usually can coax them to at least stand next to Santa as they mumble to him about the Lego set or doll or robot they want him to bring.

Our daughter is a full-fledged toddler – imitating the things her daddy and I do. In many ways she's like her mama. She likes things in order: closed doors, shut cupboards.  One of the things I hope she picks up...

I couldn't cook or clean. Just trying to keep my daughter and I both sane and alive became my primary job. I started thinking, "I have to get through this for my son's sake. I can't keep falling apart because my daughter and husband need me to be stay strong and healthy."

From the moment of conception (and actually, even before) children are losing their right to privacy. In fact, a recent study shared that by the time a child is five years old, their parents will have posted around 1,500 images of them on social media. Anonymity has been snatched away from them.

Do I feel the need to validate myself and explain my career decision with past accolades and honors to reassure myself and others of my choice? Not anymore. I used to apologize and dismiss the very notion of this choice, but now that I'm deep into the teen years with my three kids, the value of motherhood and what I offer and contribute has seeped into my bones.  

It took a conversation I had with a mom whose children had grown for it to come full circle for me. She mentioned if she could get time back with her young kids it wouldn’t be to attend the piano recital again or the Christmas play one more time. Rather, it would be to relive the little moments—snuggling in mom and dad’s bed to watch a movie or spontaneously playing hide and seek when my oldest shouts out where he’s hiding.

My point is that kids and accidents go hand-in-hand, am I right? If it hasn't happened to you yet—if your innocent child has not ruined something that you love or something expensive—I hate to tell you, but the time is coming. It will inevitably happen. Whether they are two and fry your computer or 16 and wreck your car, it will happen.

If I'm honest, this season of toddlers feels too long, too raw, and too close to every single source of insecurity I have. It feels endless and personal. Every meltdown, angry response, or missed potty-training cue (so many missed potty training cues) makes me feel like a failure at the only job I have right now.