Dear Me from Four Years Ago,
I have to say, you look a bit worn out. There’s a flicker of quiet rage bubbling beneath that layer of exhaustion. Ah, there it is! That frustration that erupts every time your toddler has an accident right after you’ve asked him to use the potty. One child is two, and the other is still an infant. What a chaotic circus act you’re managing! Juggling potty training while nursing is truly a feat of endurance, isn’t it?
Coming home from work must feel like walking into a war zone. Both kids are fussy after a long day at daycare, and everyone is starving. They crowd around you, making it impossible to prepare a meal without risking burns or tripping over tiny feet.
Oh yes, those were the days when you were so desperately needed that you felt like you could burst. You can’t even sneak away to the bathroom without an audience, and sleep is a distant memory.
And your hair? That sweet style you haven’t touched since 2012, because blow-drying feels impossible. Those dark knit clothes you wear? They hide everything—spit-up, messes, and even joy. They’re perfect—easy to wash and tough enough to withstand life’s chaos.
But hey! Don’t be ridiculous! You look… well, you look fine. Just as fine as you will for the next couple of years.
Of course, you adore your kids, even if it feels like you’re constantly on the verge of tears over their milestones. They’re sweet, funny little beings who love you dearly… but let’s be honest, you’re also just plain frustrated. Frustrated that you can’t have a moment of solitude. Frustrated that your full-time job only covers daycare costs. Frustrated by your diminishing patience. Frustrated that your toddler appears at your bedside every night. Frustrated that you have to bring the baby’s bouncy seat into the bathroom just to avoid a meltdown. Frustrated by the time spent pumping at work and the endless cleanup of pump parts after bedtime. Frustrated that “sour hour” is the longest time you spend with your kids during the week. Frustrated that you feel like you’re always waking up when all you want is to sleep.
Believe me, I remember. It wasn’t that long ago. I know you’re angry.
What? You’re not? Well, you might be too exhausted to notice it right now, but trust me, you are. And can you blame yourself? Everything is changing. It’s exhilarating and daunting all at once, but the demands on you are unyielding. New challenges arise every day, and it’s relentless.
I get it—admitting your anger might feel daunting right now. You have a lot on your plate.
Here’s the good news: in about four years, you’ll actually realize just how angry you were because you’ll find yourself feeling much more at peace. It’s incredible.
But it doesn’t happen overnight. There’s a transformative phase where you finally decide that your current job isn’t working for you, and you take the leap to stay home with the kids full-time. Yes, it can be chaotic, but it ends up being worth it. Before you know it, one child is in first grade, and the other is in preschool. You’ll start easing back into work, one client at a time.
And guess what? They sleep through the night—almost every night! Except for the occasional full moon, fever, or bout of bedwetting. But mostly, you get to sleep again! Sometimes as late as 8:00 AM on weekends if they’re really engrossed in their iPads and aren’t trying to yell across the room.
They talk now, in full sentences, and boy, are they loud! But they actually get along. They play together, watch movies, and can even hang out with neighbors in the front yard. Sure, you still step in when necessary, like when one of them is riding a chair down the driveway or asking you to join them in their imaginative games.
You’ll also find time to work out, even if it’s just for half an hour while they hang out with Dad without losing their cool when you step out of the room. You will feel good about that time apart because they’ll have friends at school and babysitters who can handle their antics.
The haze will lift, and you’ll gradually reclaim those precious moments of freedom that feel utterly luxurious compared to the barren desert of “me time” you’ve been in. You’ll feel… good again. Good enough to recognize just how angry you were because you’re not mad anymore.
So, you see? Everything is going to be alright. Your life will be forever changed, but where you’ll be in four years is truly wonderful. Much better than your current situation, no matter how you slice it.
Hang in there, Me from Four Years Ago. We’ll meet again soon enough. But for now, I have to run. Me from Four Years Ahead is calling me about something related to puberty. I guess I should cherish this age while it lasts.
You too, Past Me. You too.