Growing pains

We saw a glimpse of our future in the elevator.  It was in March during our visit to Great Wolf Lodge.  We were in bathing suits - juggling swim vests, the diaper bag, and the three kids - when the doors opened and another family joined us.  It took a split second for us to size each other up: dad, mom, two older boys, one little girl.

“It gets so much easier!”  the mom immediately gushed. 

Questions flew, and it was determined that the spacing between their children matched ours exactly, too.  Only they were five years ahead of us. 

“I know it is really hard right now but just wait.  We are having so much fun!”  she added.

It was exactly what we needed to hear at exactly the right time, and I think back to her words often these days.  As much as I appreciate being encouraged to embrace these years and want to live in the moment, there are stages where you are pushing through with your eyes fixed on the finish line. 

 

 

If it’s been said once, it’s been said a thousand times: As soon as you get a routine, children change it up again.  That is where we are now.  In the weeks before summer began, it felt like we were in a great groove.  The boys were playing together beautifully most of the time, Abby was generally going with the flow, and I felt somewhat rested.  It wasn’t perfect, but it was manageable.  Then it all went to you-know-where.  I initially blamed it on the transition into summer.  Now that it’s over a month later, I can officially declare it simply “life” (at least for right now). 

 

   

 

  

 

Suddenly, nearly everything we attempt ends with two out of the three children crying and general misery for all.  Reading aloud is a perfect example.  Even two months ago, it might look like this:

 

 

While Abby couldn’t process the content, she could hang out with us and feel included.  We took turns picking books.  It was all that a mother could hope for.  Now, Abby wants the freedom to get up and down as she chooses, sit wherever she chooses at that moment (even if it requires pushing a brother out of the way), and grab the book to flip pages back and forth.  Miles has suddenly realized that my lap is the prime real estate in the above scene, and as soon as Abby gets down, he climbs on.  Abby becomes hysterical when she realizes the lap is no longer available.  Screaming ensues.  Ryan loves being read aloud to and is baffled by this ridiculous side show.  He gets upset because he wants me to “keep reading,” which is hard to do when Abby is clawing at Miles or literally sitting on top of him (completely obstructing my view of the pages anyway, I might add).  Miles is crying now, too.  No matter what techniques of discipline I try, by the time we get everybody calmed down, the story has been interrupted so many times that no one has the interest in reading anymore.  Well, that was fun.

Ryan is our verbal processor, eager beaver, go go go kid.  He wants to assist me with everything, which is a wonderful quality. However, if he is helping, then Miles wants to help.  And if Miles is involved….then Abby has to be, too.  If you think the reading scenario sounds exciting, just think about cooking together, with knives, hot burners, and flour. 

 

    

 

 

Miles is truly trapped in the middle during this phase.  On the playground, Ryan is able to pump his legs and swing by myself.  Miles is not, so he will naturally ask, “Please push me, Mama.”  Only I have Abby, who is able to climb anything and put herself in a variety of dangerous situations very quickly.  It doesn’t help that the baby swings are often far away from the bigger kids’ swings, eliminating the option of side-by-side swinging and containment.  So, Miles doesn’t get to swing at parks.  At the pool, Ryan is swimming underwater now and swiftly gaining confidence. Miles wants to try swimming without his float just like his big brother.  Only I have Abby, who is in this awkward in-between age and size, where flotation options are limited and not reliable.  She is fearless around the water and throws herself in regularly.  I must be glued to her side.  So, Miles isn’t able to take off his floats.

I could give many more examples, but you get the idea.  Many of the experiences that I associate with summer and envision as pleasant (reading aloud, cooking together, swimming, outdoor play, crafts, etc.) have to be avoided entirely, undertaken only with another adult, or squeezed into narrow windows of opportunity. 

 

I know this is temporary.  I know this will not cause long-term harm to our children.  I know it is simply a matter of readjusting expectations and careful planning.  However, I would be lying if I didn’t acknowledge that it makes me a little sad and very tired.  I would love to indulge my children with one-on-one time to pursue what they are most excited about (reading science books with Ryan, practicing new skills with Miles, and letting Abby roam wherever she wills).

I have no doubt that we will feel these growing pains again, in a few months or a few years, when their needs diverge wildly and we scramble to adjust.  In the meantime, I certainly appreciate and celebrate the times when it does “click” and look forward to the day when I can encourage another mom a few years behind me.  For right now, I’ll roll with the punches, go with the flow, and soak up all the encouragement I can get!