It’s like I blinked and suddenly we’re walking through parking lots together with his hand in mine while he skips and hops and says, “mama, a ball!” When we get inside the store I tuck him in the shopping cart and he says, “mama shopping! Ira shopping!”
I still vividly remember the days that were long—naps were unpredictable, wake windows were too short to accomplish anything, and I found myself just trying to keep both of us fed. I longed for feedback back then, for someone to tell me I was doing a good job. And occasionally, I’d get a glimmer of an almost-smile from a newborn and think, maybe I’m getting the hang of this.
Now, the feedback is constant in the form of “more MAC please!!” (Mac n’ cheese) or “driving dada’s car! please!!” somehow we shifted from trying to survive together to doing this little rhythmic dance of daily life. We exist together in a way that works for both of us. He knows the Dunkin’ drive thru well and will say, “Hi” “bye” and “coffee!!” When I go to my workout classes, he happily greets the childcare workers telling them about the shirt he’s wearing that day or showing them a new tattoo on his hand. I avoid long car rides for his sake and help him get all his wiggles out with frequent park visits, backyard playtime, and jumping on a trampoline.
Toddlerhood isn’t easier than having a newborn. It’s just different. We traded the newborn tears for comfort or milk for toddler tears that have a clear cause although at times it’s not always something I can solve—where is that lost sticker from yesterday? why can’t the biggest toy truck fit in a tiny sock drawer? when asking for donuts or pizza, why don’t they just appear in front of us?
My husband and I were joking with friends with a newborn about how essentially, toddlerhood is harder than having a newborn but we also just get better at being parents. I’m used to things like sickness or skipped naps totally derailing my day. With a newborn, I would lose my mind when my husband was home late from work. Now, I have so many tools to use when a meeting runs late and my toddler and I just get each other. We’re both more flexible. We’ve both figured a lot out.
When I had my newborn son, I realized very quickly that I didn’t really know what to do with a newborn. I hadn’t spent a lot of time around young babies and I felt unsure of myself and nervous. When it’s your baby that’s also different—I was dealing with all the stress of life with a newborn while trying to recover from a major surgery and with hormones that were all out of whack. It all felt like too much.
Toddlerhood is different. My toddler knows the names of neighbors and friends. Certain experiences stand out to him he will bring them up again and again for weeks to come. He’s funny and he’s kind and he’s constantly learning. One of my favorite toddler moments will always be watching his little brain at work figuring something out for the first time or stringing together new words. To me, our days feel magical. They aren’t always perfect and I often tell my husband I need a little break when he gets home but there is so much goodness and joy in this stage. I want to soak up every moment.
Maybe the world tells us that toddlers are always difficult and throwing unnecessary tantrums but I don’t think we have to accept that version of the story. In my experience, toddlers are a never ending source of curiosity and fun and maybe we’re the ones who could slow down and pay more attention to the wonder they direct us to.
Every day, my toddler smells the same flowers on the way into my gym. Every day, at least one adult stops to tell me how adorable that is—but I’ve never seen another adult stop and smell those flowers with him. What I love about toddlerhood is that it pays attention to the world around us—it says nothing is ordinary and decides every bit of every day deserves our slow and careful attention.
This week, my toddler turns two! I hope he continues to say he wants to “do it himself” and lets me watch him take on the world with all the courage and boldness a tiny little man can hold. I hope he keeps pausing to pay attention, and I hope he forces me to stop and pay attention too.
