Last week, my toddler reached a remarkable milestone in the sleep department, blissfully snoozing through three consecutive nights. Fueled by this newfound energy, I excitedly picked up my 6- and 4-year-olds from school and proclaimed, in my best Oprah impression, “We’re going to the beeeeeach!” (Just like that, everyone gets a beach trip!) The next day, I took my middle child, who needed a little extra care, on an adventure to the Mrs. Grossman’s sticker factory. I even managed to prepare food for a preschool shift, lend support to a close friend, and attend a world premiere at the San Francisco Ballet. I joyfully shared on social media, “It seems that 20 months after the arrival of our third child, we’ve finally reclaimed our lives.”
However, upon returning home, we were met with a different scene: our baby put on a show titled “I Can’t Breathe Through My Nose.” That night, I was up every 20 minutes, waking up feeling like I’d just survived a wild night out after an extended spring break.
The morning was spent on the phone, trying to navigate our property taxes. Just as I hung up, my 4-year-old climbed onto my bed and said, “Read and cuddle now, Mama,” before launching my beige decorative pillows into a puddle of black paint on the floor. Suddenly, it clicked why he had been so quiet during my call. Tears began to flow without warning. I rushed to the bathroom to let them fall, hearing his cries of “I’m sorry, Mommy! I’m sorry!”
Sleep deprivation undoubtedly played a part in my emotional response. There was also the looming threat of a $1,000 penalty at a time when our finances were so tight that I’d begun purchasing my least favorite brand of mayonnaise to save $1.37. Guilt weighed on me too. I longed to hug my little boy, to relish the smiles that come from my undivided attention. But I also felt the pressure to get things done.
Most of all, I blame the jarring highs and lows of parenting. One moment, I felt like supermom—accomplishing everything and enjoying my children to the fullest—only to be quickly thrust back into reality. It’s like whiplash. Full speed ahead, then—bam—complete stop.
I’ve coined this phenomenon “kidlash.” After years of attempting to articulate this concept, I’ve paired together memorable moments that highlight the rollercoaster of parenting:
Highs and Lows of Parenting
- High: The baby stood up for the first time during breakfast, prompting cheers from her older siblings.
- Low: My son, frustrated by my distraction with his sick sister, looked me dead in the eye and declared, “You are trash.” He meant it literally, but it still stung.
- High: My husband took the kids to the playground, allowing me to indulge in a long bath read. When their voices echoed down the hallway, my initial dread turned into excitement as my oldest joined me for a spa day.
- Low: At bedtime, she wouldn’t settle down, constantly interrupting her siblings with thoughts like, “Did you know chimpanzees are our closest relatives?” and “I need a book about hermit crabs.” I was desperate to watch Nashville, so I snapped at her, ruining the moment.
- High: My son was too sick to get out of bed but showered me with cuddles.
- Low: I found myself secretly pleased about his illness, just for the closeness.
- High: I finished paying the bills early, enjoying a delightful moment listening to my son’s song about “five little bunnies in a bakery shop.” We even crafted bunny-shaped graham crackers, bursting into laughter together.
- Low: When he hurled insults at his sister later that day, I lost it and grabbed his face to force eye contact, only to hear him scream, “You’re the worst mommy, and I won’t come to your birthday party even if there’s yellow cake with chocolate frosting!”
These emotional swings are relentless, but it’s the monthly and yearly cycles of kidlash that truly wear me down. Sitting in the dark one evening, holding my husband’s hand while classical music filled the room and athletes performed on stage, I thought we were finally emerging from the postpartum haze. I felt the warmth of light on my face. Then, just like that, a cold virus hit our home, plunging me back into the chaos, with sleep and peace feeling like distant memories.
This has been my reality for six years.
Through all the ups and downs, I’ve managed to hold onto one small victory. After a decade and multiple bedding sets, my husband finally learned that throw pillows aren’t meant for head or foot support and must be kept pristine. He teased me about it, saying, “Is it like the delicious food you put out at parties that I can’t touch?” but he still dutifully placed my “ornamental” pillows on a clean surface each night before bed.
I thought those pillows would help me emerge unscathed, but instead, I found myself crying. Yet I also lost myself in my son’s embrace and the enchantment of a good book, reminding me that in the whirlwind of parenting, moments of love and connection still shine through.
If you’re interested in exploring more about the intricacies of parenting, check out this post on our blog. And for those considering home insemination, Make a Mom offers reputable at-home insemination kits. For further reading on fertility, visit Science Daily, an excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, parenting is a journey of extreme highs and lows that can leave you feeling like you’ve experienced emotional whiplash. The key is to find joy in the little moments, even amidst the chaos.
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