Today at Levi’s 18 month well check up the first words out of our pediatrician’s mouth were, “So 18 months. His only job right now is to be driving you absolutely insane.” This is so so very true. Somehow, seemingly overnight, my little angelic, easy going, sweet Levi metamorphosed into a screaming, whiny, hitting, non-sleeping beast of a child. I promise you it was bizarre how quickly it happened. Due to my particular breed of “I hate change” personality, I have found this new stage excruciatingly hard to deal with. I have blown up, I have sobbed, I have laughed in hysterics and then promptly started crying again.
Separation anxiety has hit big time leaving me feeling like the world’s worst mom every time I leave a room. And heaven forbid he take a nap by himself. If he had covered basic Shakespeare at this age, I swear he would be saying, “Et tu, Brute” everytime I close the door. At least I’m pretty sure I heard him screaming that phrase sometime during the last naptime break…or as it has come to be known in our house, “The Hour of Pure Torturous Screams”.
But, even still, I have hope that this, too, shall pass. We have just entered a new phase of life together. One where my sanity is put to the test and where he learns you can’t always get what you want…no matter how loud you are. My little sister just had her first baby a little over a month ago. He is a sweet bundle of newborn goodness and as I watch my sister cry over lost sleep and lack of free time of any sort, I know deep down in my heart that this is just a phase for her. One night her son will magically sleep 8 hours. And one day he will be content to coo sweetly in his pack and play while she takes a shower uninterrupted. One day the stress of having a newborn will be over…new stress will take over but we won’t tell her that just yet. But when you are in the thick of it, the days stretch out endlessly and the nights are even longer.
And so, I have to remember that Levi is also in a new stage. God has oh so graciously blessed me with three groups of people to remind me of this constantly. First, my amazing husband, Greg, who so faithfully listens to me complain, tells me I’m a good mom and comes home ready to tickle and cuddle Levi every night even though he just put in a full 8 hours at work. He is truly the one and only husband that could appreciate my insanity and moments of obsessive worry. He is one of the good ones.
Secondly, those blessed women who have gone before me. The sweet moms who take us out on play dates and tell me horror stories of what their kids did when they were Levi’s age. They listen to my worries and they nod in remembrance as they recall their own sleepless nights. And most importantly, they repeat the phrase, “This is all normal” as often as possible. God bless the moms on the other side.
And lastly, my two very best friends, who although without kids right now, are so faithful in checking up on me and offering to babysit my monster. It would be so easy for them to claim that they just can’t relate and decide to see me on the other side when I am back to the Reagan that they like to hang out with. But they are in the thick of it with me, reminding me that there is a whole world out there that doesn’t revolve around how long a nap is or whether veggies were eaten or not. They love my child tirelessly and in doing so, show me how much they love me. Jordan and Cara are rockstars of friendship…and the fact that they often bring sweets and/or alcohol when they visit just makes them all the more endearing.
So if you know a mom of a toddler who looks beat down and feels like the worst mom ever, bring them a coffee. Offer to sit with them while their kid yells from their naptime crib and tell them some funny jokes. If you have gone before them in motherhood find the worst of the worst memories of your little toddler and go to town. Embellishment is not only appreciated, it’s required.
And if you are in the weeds with me and are looking at your toddler like they have grown demonic horns (Levi’s are there. I know it. His hair just keeps hiding them.) then take heart that you are not alone. I am right there with you, crying it out…in every way imaginable. Lock arms with those around you and ride it out. There is daylight somewhere on the other side…right?
