Oh Just Wait
Those three little words drove me nuts when my kids were young.
Mamas who had been through the insanity of multiple toddlers and were now in the teenage years would often look at me funny when I'd say something like "I bet it will be so much easier when they are older", or if I mentioned my longing for the day when they could at least wipe their own butts.
The idea of having a minute that I didn't have to worry that one kid was harming the other, or ingesting toilet water, or emptying out a cereal box on the floor- all made me long for a time in the future.
Some moms would smile and nod, commiserate that I was in the labor-intensive years, and don't worry, it'll get better. One day you'll go to the bathroom by yourself again (hopefully without having to worry about the tornado I'd discover due to my 1 minute absence with three creative toddlers running free around the house).
They would see the tired eyes, the spit-up stains on my shirt, the less-than-nutritious meal my kids were eating because at least they were eating, and would offer encouragement with words that honored the hard I was in.
Other moms wouldsmirk smile and say oh just wait.
I hated that phrase.
It felt dismissive of the current trials, the hard work of littles, the constant pull on my attention (or my actual body- will I ever not be touched constantly??).
The words were disheartening, and it didn't seem possible that what they were indicating (it gets harder?) was true.
If it was true, I wanted to live in the bubble of hope I was in as long as possible.
It HAD to get better.
Fast forward 5 years and my youngest is almost 10.
My oldest is man-sized.
My middle is taller than me.
The bottles, diapers, sippy cups, diaper bags, cribs, potty training, biting, running in the street, hitting each other, and having tantrums aremostly gone.
Along with those things, some other great things are gone.
Like naptime.
And a 7:30pm bedtime.
The ability to physically handle a child who was losing it.
The truth that the Vikings are better than the Packers.
My control over who they are talking to, what they will believe, how they behave when I'm not there.
Instead of conversations about why that frog in the pond is on top of the other, we have talks about sex, what God intended it for, how to protect their hearts and bodies.
The list of naughty words we used to have is now replaced by another list of new words that weren't even in our vocabulary when our home was their primary influence. (Stupid is still the bad s-word, right?)
The answer "because I said so" and "you're going to sit in time-out (or get spanked) if you don't obey" are replaced with " you'll lose your phone" and "sit down while I yell at you so I don't have to crane my neck to see your 6 foot tall face".
The realization that I am physically incapable of taking my 2 sons and so all I have are parental authority, reason, respect, love and God to appeal to their wills and pray they will bend.
So were the mamas in the second group right?
It's a different hard.
But it's good.
While I miss the times of being "it", I love to see how God is molding them, watching personalities and convictions emerge.
When others delight in my children because they can carry on a conversation (and not hit someone in the nuts, or wreck their stuff), it brings a joy I didn't expect.
Watching them love others, prefer others, and celebrate others- that is priceless.
There are days I'd happily take the raucous activity of 3 kids under 5 (that really was my favorite stage).
But, I get to go to Target by myself whenever I want!
Bri and I can enjoy a spontaneous date night because it doesn't require the expense and arranging of someone to watch the kids.
BigBoy #1 can get whatever is too high, too heavy, too tight, for me.
Sometimes they sleep in past 7am, and regardless they don't need me the minute they're up!
So Mama of littles, just wait... each stage contains it's own blessings.
Mamas who had been through the insanity of multiple toddlers and were now in the teenage years would often look at me funny when I'd say something like "I bet it will be so much easier when they are older", or if I mentioned my longing for the day when they could at least wipe their own butts.
The idea of having a minute that I didn't have to worry that one kid was harming the other, or ingesting toilet water, or emptying out a cereal box on the floor- all made me long for a time in the future.
Some moms would smile and nod, commiserate that I was in the labor-intensive years, and don't worry, it'll get better. One day you'll go to the bathroom by yourself again (hopefully without having to worry about the tornado I'd discover due to my 1 minute absence with three creative toddlers running free around the house).
They would see the tired eyes, the spit-up stains on my shirt, the less-than-nutritious meal my kids were eating because at least they were eating, and would offer encouragement with words that honored the hard I was in.
Other moms would
I hated that phrase.
It felt dismissive of the current trials, the hard work of littles, the constant pull on my attention (or my actual body- will I ever not be touched constantly??).
The words were disheartening, and it didn't seem possible that what they were indicating (it gets harder?) was true.
If it was true, I wanted to live in the bubble of hope I was in as long as possible.
It HAD to get better.
Fast forward 5 years and my youngest is almost 10.
My oldest is man-sized.
My middle is taller than me.
The bottles, diapers, sippy cups, diaper bags, cribs, potty training, biting, running in the street, hitting each other, and having tantrums are
Along with those things, some other great things are gone.
Like naptime.
And a 7:30pm bedtime.
The ability to physically handle a child who was losing it.
The truth that the Vikings are better than the Packers.
My control over who they are talking to, what they will believe, how they behave when I'm not there.
Instead of conversations about why that frog in the pond is on top of the other, we have talks about sex, what God intended it for, how to protect their hearts and bodies.
The list of naughty words we used to have is now replaced by another list of new words that weren't even in our vocabulary when our home was their primary influence. (Stupid is still the bad s-word, right?)
The answer "because I said so" and "you're going to sit in time-out (or get spanked) if you don't obey" are replaced with " you'll lose your phone" and "sit down while I yell at you so I don't have to crane my neck to see your 6 foot tall face".
The realization that I am physically incapable of taking my 2 sons and so all I have are parental authority, reason, respect, love and God to appeal to their wills and pray they will bend.
So were the mamas in the second group right?
It's a different hard.
But it's good.
While I miss the times of being "it", I love to see how God is molding them, watching personalities and convictions emerge.
When others delight in my children because they can carry on a conversation (and not hit someone in the nuts, or wreck their stuff), it brings a joy I didn't expect.
Watching them love others, prefer others, and celebrate others- that is priceless.
There are days I'd happily take the raucous activity of 3 kids under 5 (that really was my favorite stage).
But, I get to go to Target by myself whenever I want!
Bri and I can enjoy a spontaneous date night because it doesn't require the expense and arranging of someone to watch the kids.
BigBoy #1 can get whatever is too high, too heavy, too tight, for me.
Sometimes they sleep in past 7am, and regardless they don't need me the minute they're up!
So Mama of littles, just wait... each stage contains it's own blessings.
Sounds like you should have another! 😘
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