The Fog has Lifted, We Survived the Toddler Years!

I recently had the chance to attend a book reading and have a drink with @phdinparenting! She is every bit as insightful in real life as in her blog, PhD in Parenting. She is currently running a Blog Carnival about Toddlers, which has motivated me to pen my thoughts on our experience through the toddler years.

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about the toddler years, now that we have emerged from toddlerhood and are now fully entrenched in the preschooler years. DadPhD and I find ourselves enveloped in disbelief by the realization that our boys are sleeping in their own beds*, as we sign off for the night ourselves. For us, the days of diapers, strollers, slings, carriers, bags, spill proof cups, bite sized snacks, nursing marathons, teething, sleepless nights, and insatiable needs are done.

It’s funny, when I stop to reflect on these toddler years, I don’t really remember when the fog came rolling in nor do I remember when it was gone (maybe some vestiges are still present), but I do know that it came in relentlessly thick. Living in this fog is how I can best describe my state of mind while enduring the toddler years. I am certain this fog is of evolutionary design, and had Charles Darwin been a mother, he would have written volumes about how the evolutionary benefit of ‘toddler fog’ prevented parents from donating their toddlers to the local Good Will.

One can only do so much in this fog, which paradoxically, helped me focus. It helped me not focus on the trivial things, such as:

• Why only the socks with the grippy things on the bottom would suffice for him.
• Why he viscerally hated everything he was offered to eat.
• Why it was more fun for him to bite the toothbrush than let it clean his teeth.
• Why it was more appropriate to roar at strangers like Simba the Lion King than to smile his adorable smile.
• Why under no circumstances is he leaving the park, ever.

The fog helped me forget these things and focus on what matters….just being there for my toddler and meeting all his needs. To name a few:

• Feeding him when he was hungry.
• Cuddling him when he felt overwhelmed.
• Playing with him when he needed a friend.
• Teaching him how he was expected to behave, by modeling, role-playing and allowing him shadow me.
• Parenting him through the night.
• Reassuring him as he expressed his (wide) range of emotions.
• Listening and validating his feelings.
• Supporting him and acting as his advocate.

When it is so foggy it becomes difficult to see:

• that the toys are all over the house
• dust bunnies have taken over
• the dishes are not done
• the kids clothes don’t match
• your clothes don’t match
• major news stories continue to happen all over the world
• people staring at you as you breastfed your toddler in public

I just didn’t care, because the fog keeps your focus on that little shinning light; your toddler.

The toddler years are demanding, and sometimes the fog is so thick you have to go by feel, but eventually the fog lifts and you are amazed to see that now, your toddler has grown up and has benefited from your unwavering focus. You will now be able to clearly see/witness him: 

• Communicate with his little brother using gentle, kind words and gestures.
• Thank you for the best dinner ever.
• Be respectful and empathetic with his friends.
• Express his needs and wants without screaming/crying/whining (most of the time).
• Watch him compromise.
• Engage you in meaningful and remarkably humorous conversations.

Now, freshly out of the fog, when my friends call on me for support as they navigate their own journey through the toddler years, I can confidently say that “you will survive, just as those before us survived, because the fog does eventually lift”.

We survived toddlerhood with our sanity and many cherished memories.

In the thickest of the fog I may not have been the best wife, sister, daughter, or friend, but one thing I do know is that I was the mom my toddler needed me to be.

Up next, the preschool/school-aged years…

*Of course both boys still come into our bed later in the night. Something we look forward to.

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