Mothering a Toddler

I love being a mother. I’ve pretty much made it my occupation over the last 12 years. But gosh, it can be exhausting.

Currently my youngest of my four kids is 16 month olds. I forgot how tiring this phase is.  I almost forgot about the hyper-vigilance you have to exercise over a little human who can move around and hurt themselves out of mere curiosity. Grabbing knives out of an open dishwasher or from the table top, sliding glass dishes onto the floor, attracted to hot ovens, running out into roads, eating unknown plants (insects, pieces of dirt), using you like a jungle gym. Not to mention the trail of crumbs or stickiness left behind everywhere they go.

I think I’m feeling it extra at the moment because I’m sick. The kind of sick that greatly benefits from long periods of rest…and unfortunately…getting long periods of rest is extremely difficult with a toddler.

 I’ve night weaned my baby (click here if you want to know how), so he only breastfeeds in the day, but at the moment that doesn’t mean we are getting any better sleep. He is also feeling sick and waking up at all hours of the night.

I’ve been feeling worn out. Drained. Stretched thin. Touched out.

 So today while putting my little one down for his nap I made a deliberate effort to think of the good things about this season:

• The feeling of unconditional love, even if I accidentally hurt him, I’m still the one he comes to for comfort.
• The sheer joy of reuniting after being apart for just a short while – no one else speed wobbles to me with such a huge grin because they are SO happy to see me after an hour.
• The feeling of that sleeping little body tangled up in my arms (and sometimes my legs because if I don’t hold him down with my WHOLE body he will resist sleep and try to get up and walk away).
• The sound of “Mama, Mama, Mama” in that cute baby voice.
• A connection that runs so deep that I intuitively sense his needs…hunger, sleep, frustration, discomfort.
• Sometimes being the only one to understand the words he is trying to sign/pronounce.

 I joke to the rest of the family “I am him and he is me.” We have no physical boundaries between us as he climbs onto me as I sleep, sit, eat, cook, read, pray.

 Alhamdulillah. Until I was blessed with children I didn’t realise that this connection runs so deep, but also, that this particular connection is just for a season.

Soon enough he will be old enough to communicate his needs, not just to me,  but anyone. I won’t be the only one who can figure out what is upsetting him. And then he will be able to get food himself, put himself to sleep, go to the bathroom alone.

The connection changes, it evolves, and I enjoy mothering my older children in a different way, a way that doesn’t require ALL of me, physically, mentally, emotionally, ALL of the time.

But for now, I’m going to try to be more appreciative of this season of sticky hands and hugs and kisses, garbled words of love and no physical boundaries. May Allah guide and make it easy – for me and all the other mothers going through this joyful, exhausting, rollercoaster season of motherhood.