The Terrible and The Terrifying

Before you become a parent, lots of other parents like to tell you all about it. What to feed your kid, what diapers are best, when they should stop using a pacifier (they’re two and still sleep with their paci?! gasp!)… The list literally goes on and on.. and on. You know what they also love to tell you about (in a totally I’m so glad it’s over for me kind of way)? Toddlerhood.

Everyone hears about the terrible twos, and after you’ve just had the most amazing first year and a half of their lives with all the cutest babble, unstable walking, and high-pitched squeals your heart could take, it’s like getting hit by a car when the terrible twos rear their ugly heads. Now, what feels like getting hit by a semi and doesn’t even compare to those measly little twos? The terrifying threes.

The Terrible Twos

I didn’t have my first REAL encounter with the terrible twos until almost six months in. I know, I know. I have the most amazing child ever, right? Well, I honestly think they were starting to show up before then, but everything just seemed so mild. Of course he had tantrums and discipline was becoming increasingly needed, but nothing too unbearable. I felt like I had a handle on it. Then 2.5 came rolling in…

Seriously, it was probably the perfect storm. Isaac had been battling the croup for a couple of days back in November. side note: if you or your child has never had the croup, count yourself lucky. It’s the sickness that never goes away. Anyway, he wasn’t feeling too hot. However, we had had a normal day of school and work and he was in a good mood while I ran errands after picking him up. We went by the store for literally one thing, and as we’re standing at the checkout, Isaac is staring up at the cashier as if he is patiently waiting for something. What that something was? At this point I was clueless. I was just thanking my stars that he was being so well-behaved. So I’m finishing up with checkout and I ask for his hand so we can walk away and out the door and OH MY GOD THE WORLD IS ENDING IT’S ARMAGEDDON WE’RE FREAKING OUT SCREAMING AND CRYING … 😐 … Imagine my shock when my seemingly well-behaved son all of a sudden starts throwing the tantrum to end all tantrums for no apparent reason in the middle of the registers at the front of the store. So what do I do? I get the heck out of dodge as quickly as humanly possible. What makes that not go so quickly? My one item taking up an entire arm that I told the cashier I did not need a bag for because 1. plastic island in the middle of the ocean, and 2. my awesomely, well-behaved kid 🤦🏻‍♀️. So, yeah. I then spent the next two minutes dragging my kid (who has somehow forgotten to walk during this dumpster fire) by his arm across the front of the store, outside and through the wet parking lot, and to our car where I then had to use what felt like every muscle in my puny arms to restrain him into his carseat. Phew. To top it all off? I realized halfway through this mess what he was so upset about: We had been to the same store just a few days prior where the cashier gave him a lollipop. I felt like the worst mom on the planet over a lollipop…

The Terrifying Threes

Don’t you love the word no? There’s so much power behind it. As adults, and especially women, we’re taught its importance and how we should never be afraid to use it. You know who has absolutely no problem with that advice? My not-even-three-yet son.

When asked if he will please put his shoes away? No. When asked if he will please turn the bathroom light off? No. When asked if he will please stop jumping on the couch? No. When asked if he will please stop flooding the bathroom floor because rinsing out his potty in the sink is his absolute most favorite thing ever? No. That word can suck it.

You want to know why the threes are so bad? And universe help me because we’re not actually even there yet, but if this is any indication of how the next year is going to go, I’m going to need some serious spa time. The threes are so bad for the same reason they are so awesome. I LOVE my kid’s personality. He is smart in a quick, witty way. He is vibrant. He is bursting full of joy. He finds fun in almost everything he does. That personality is also what lends backbone to his wants. He is quick to share what he does and doesn’t want at all times, and when what he’s being told to do isn’t congruent with what he wants to do? All. Hell. Breaks. Loose. Dragging a 30lb toddler that’s over half your height up a flight of stairs while juggling a computer bag, a lunch bag, and a book bag all in 15 degree weather? Not my funnest.

In conclusion, I love my kid. He is literally the best. I seriously miss him when he goes to bed at night. With that said, I know I’m not the only one out there dealing with the above, feeling these feelings, and thinking some days you just barely survive it. So instead of feeling like we need to have it all together all of the time, how about we talk about how we don’t? And we celebrate that. We pat each other on the backs for making it another day. We congratulate the mom (or dad) next to us for holding it together when their kid just flung a box of cereal across the aisle. We smile at the exhausted mom (again, or dad) with four kids filling out five pages of documents at the clinic where one is crying, two are fighting, and the other is staring at a tablet. We look at another parent with understanding instead of judgment.

Until next time…