1. Never getting what you need (or not enough of what you need): Whether its time or personal space or your own dang bowl of ice cream

2. The awe in a child’s eyes at the sight of snow (even if it’s the fourth time today)

3. How quickly you go from the most important person in their life to the one they wouldn’t be caught dead with (and back again)

4. Never getting a vacation (you take trips, but those are just stress somewhere else!).

5. How hard it hits you during those amazing moments: you love this, and you love them.

What do you think? What will you never get used to as a mom?

1. Taking three times as long as it should to do just about everything.
Especially, but not limited to, taking a walk, shopping, using the stairs, outings, reading, crafts . . .

2. Running on empty, like all the time.
This doesn’t mean that you won’t throw the occasional grown-up-tantrum when the baby wakes up for the day at 5:30 after a child had you out of bed every hour since you dared to go to bed at midnight. But you’ll make it. Not fun, but physically possible.

3. The cuteness of childhood, adorable as it is.
You take for granted that they’ll be that way forever. Just this week, Rebecca started saying “p’ee-p’ease” instead of “mee-mease.”

4. The present.
It’s almost as if they’ve always been this size/capable/annoying/wonderful.

5. Being needed, like all the time.
And if for some reason your kids don’t need you, somehow we find other ways to make ourselves useful. Or other people or things who need us.

6. Being dirty.
It sounds gross, but seriously, from the stages of nursing to the diapers to the mud-pie stage, you realize that a little dirt isn’t the end of the world. (And if it’s not you physically, it’s probably the kids or the house. Or all three.) Just makes you appreciate the clean even more!

7. Having these sweet strangers around.
It seems like the older they get, the more they become their own people. It’s almost as if we can’t really know them the way we did when they were our babies. But we love them and love to get to know them a little better every day.

What have you gotten used to as a mother?

I used my “finger phone.” “Hi, Rebecca. How are you?”

“Gud.”

“What are you doing?”

“Nuffing. Watcha TV. Fee Ferm.” [Phineas & Ferb]

Rebecca really looked forward to her birthday this year (probably mostly because Hayden thought it was exciting). I kept having to tell her that it wasn’t her birthday yet. Finally, she got the message—whenever the subject came up, she’d say, “Becca birt-day! Nek week. Mon-ay.” [Next week. Monday.]

After her birthday, we (again, mostly Hayden) taught Rebecca her age. “How old are you?” we’d ask.

“Two!” she’d proclaim for the first week, and hold up her fingers:

After the first week, the answer changed. “How old are you?” we ask.

She’s still just as proud to proclaim her new answer: “Becca!”

Sometimes, Rebecca has rough naps. It takes her over an hour to fall asleep (though she seldom cries, so that’s good). One day, she’d been in bed for 90 minutes and started bawling. I came in to get her.

“Becca ‘wake,” she told me piteously.

“I can hear that.”

“Becca ky.” [cry]

“Did you sleep at all?”

“Uh huh.” She holds up her fingers the same as above. “One minnut.” (She also likes to tell me “one minnut” when she wants me to wait for her.)

Last week, Rebecca got sent to her room for the first time. She and Hayden had been fighting, so they both got sent to their room. Rebecca submitted peacefully, allowing me to lead her to her room, and sitting quietly in the arm chair there. She insisted I close the door. (This was probably because Hayden threw his usual screaming fit at the mere mention of being sent to his room, and as always, I had to physically drag him there. Maturity FTW.)

After Rebecca’s two minutes were up, I opened the door and invited her to come out. (Hayden was still screaming at this point, laying over the threshold to his room.) Rebecca preferred to stay in her room. Can’t say I blame her.

Later that day, something happened to upset her while she was in another room. “I go my woom!” she announced to her father amid her tears.

I found her there, laying on the arm chair, crying, a few minutes later. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I sad.” [Biggest frown in the world]

“Can I hold you to help you feel better?”

“No. Me’cine [medicine] help me feel better.”

Edited to add: whenever she thinks I’m upset, she uses her cutest, most innocent tone: “Sumping wong, Mommy? Needa Pinky?”

What are your favorite kid moments recently? Or what are your favorite toddler moments?

But like all children this age, she has moments where that confidence falters, where she still wants to be the little baby that she still is. (“Becca,” she would correct me if she knew I’m calling her a baby.)

Nothing exemplifies this better than her cries of “keh me!” So I made a handy graphic to illustrate this:

What are your favorite “baby steps” toward independence?

Genetics at work: my mother and my daughter

As a mother of very young children, I can tell you exactly how demanding and frustrating babies and toddlers can be—but I’ve come to believe that a babies’ cuteness is, in fact, an inherited defense mechanism against some of their most motherly-frustration-inducing behaviors. My evidence:

1. Cuddling: Although waking me for the eighth time in six hours is decidedly not a good way into my good graces, a quiet, sweet, snuggling baby is pretty tough to stay angry at.
2. Gurgling giggles: It’s five AM and the infant thinks it’s time to get up for the day. But before I can burst into tears, she sees my face and wham—instant gales of excited laughter. Even if I’m not quite as happy to see her at that hour, it’s hard not to forgive her when she’s just so happy to see me.
3. Nap time: When I reach my wits’ end, I know it’s time for a nap (for me and/or the kids ). This can be a double whammy, especially if the baby or toddler is obviously tired but still averse to said nap, and spends half an hour screaming—because when they finally succumb to the much-needed sleep, it’s all the sweeter to peek in on the peacefully slumbering angel (and pray it lasts!).
4. Baby talk: Sure, you can argue their articulatory muscles aren’t fully developed enough to appreciate the nuances of the lateral approximate, but let’s face it: somewhere in his DNA, my son knows that “I yub you!” melts even an annoyed heart faster than plain old “I love you.”
5. Stoic tears: Okay, this one might not be entirely genetic, but who wouldn’t forgive a tantrum from tiny child who bravely insists that he must wipe his own tears?

What other naturally cute behaviors have you seen that totally take the wind out of your frustration?

“Hayden,” I asked, “tomorrow for Family Home Evening—or maybe just in the evening—”

“Me busy,” he regretfully informed me.

…. Oh.

• Seeing them being gentle and sweet with babies.
• Three words: “I yub you!”
• Toothy grins and “Tickle me, Mom!”
• Spontaneous hugs and kisses
• The beginnings of empathy (yesterday, he told me “Don’t cry, Mom!”)
• The beginnings of imagination (can’t even begin to list all of his hilarious things he’s pretended this week!)
• The all-out, full-body headlong run—especially when his little feet just can’t keep up.
• Watching him learn every day, especially as he practices putting together sentences.
• The mixture of baby and big boy that makes me happy to see how he’ll grow up, excited about how much he’s grown already and sad to see my baby fading already.

What were/are your favorite things about toddlerhood?

No, wait. Getting toddlers to eat . . . their food. Riiight. (Note: cannibalism is frowned upon in most societies.)

We’ve talked about getting children to eat their vegetables before, but sometimes it’s tough to get my 2-year-old to eat . . . anything.

What’s your best advice?

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