Alana Smith
That's my mom version of cursing.
People tell you that age three is worse than age two, but you never really believe anything unpleasant about your own child, because how could my adorable two-year-old who is all squishy and wobbly, ever be a repeating, demanding, tantrum-throwing wild man at all times of the day? Never. Maybe your child, but not mine. Right?
Welcome to age three.
I'm not even going to waste my breath on the loud and picky situation that is my house right now, because I know it's a phase, and this phase is tough! But these difficult days with a toddler leave me longing for quiet, and occasionally missing the ease of my days before kiddos. Sometimes the noise in my house and the noise in my head is so overwhelming that I just need to get out, and catch my breath and my sanity.
I had the opportunity to get my nails done recently, and by opportunity, I mean I told my husband I was leaving the house, right now! I needed some alone time, away from the children and the million things that needed to be done. As I sat waiting my turn, I looked at my watch and was anxious about how long this would take. There are just too many things to do these days. My brain never turns off. No wonder I'm tired all the time! I went to relax, yet I was stressed after waiting 15 minutes. I felt like an actual weight was on me from all of the things clogging up my head.
I looked over at this twenty-something girl next to me and I was envious for a moment. Tan. No bags under her eyes. She seemed so free—oblivious to the luxury of time that she is afforded. No small humans needing all the things, and asking all the questions. No dirty house, or husband, or dog to let out. Not to mention the career, and the friends you can't seem to make the time for anymore. I think of myself at that age, and I can barely remember who that person was.
Don't get me wrong, I adore my children more than I ever knew possible, and I am grateful for the busyness that comes from a full life. I truly wouldn't change it, and I know that so many women are pleading for the chance to experience the tiresome days with a toddler.
But it still makes you weary. And I think it's okay to admit that I miss my pre-baby days at times. I miss naps. I miss the peace that was my house at 5pm. I miss spontaneity. I know my husband misses the person he married, and not this ragged, on-edge woman that's trying to do all the things, all the time. I feel like I haven't really slept in years and now I have these willful, wild, little people to teach and nurture and protect. I miss my old self, even though I don't want to be my old self. Thankfully, God is full of grace, and I need a lot of it, especially raising two boys.
So, to the moms who are secretly wishing they could go on a beach vacation alone, and to those who are crying at 9pm because you yelled at every person in your house today, and to those who are just so, so tired you can barely hold your eyes open, you aren't alone. And no matter how much you feel like you fail at times, your kiddos still call for you in the night, and the husband can't find anything without you, and the dog would go hungry, and all the plants would die, and no one would ever go to the dentist. Because we are so needed.
The next time you get to do something for yourself, actually enjoy it—breathe the peace and quiet in—and know that the young, tan, wrinkle-free girl next to you will be chasing her own toddler one day, screaming, “Oh. My. Stars!”
Alana is a nurse anesthetist, writer and boy mom (ages 8 and 3), who lives in north Shelby County with her husband, kids and Boxer, Sam. When she’s not writing or chasing little humans, she can usually be found in the aisles of Target. She shares her writings at Holy Moly Motherhood (on Facebook and Instagram), where she takes on all things motherhood and marriage.
