I chased my baby up a mountain

“Hey Mom, can you get me out of here?” 

Hmmm that was a good question. Could I get her out of there? My daughter (who turned four last summer) had thought it would be super hilarious for me to put her in a baby swing at the park. I shared her excited energy and thought that, indeed, it would be pretty funny to see her in a baby swing too.

Literally the second I got all her weight plopped into the swing I thought, “OH CRAP. How am I going to get her out of this??” It was one of those swings where you have to lift the baby up really high until their feet clear the leg holes. With how much I struggled just getting her into the seat, I realized I had absolutely no clue how I was going to get her out of it. We were the only ones at the park. The nearest group of people was a construction crew about a 1/4 of a mile away. I quickly filed that info into my “emergency we’ve been stuck here for an hour and I am desperate for help” folder. As I just stood there silently panicking in my head, she was having the most amazing time. She exchanged excited squeals with her little brother and they both laughed about how much fun there were having side-by-side. Totally carefree. And then, the dreaded question came, “Mom, I’m ready to get out. Can you get me out of here?” ….Sweetie, do you want to know the real answer to that question?? Of course I couldn’t scare her and tell her I was picturing us spending the rest of her life stuck in this thing. I had to stay calm and act as though I was totally capable of lifting her 40lb body up over my head. In this moment I probably should have assessed the situation and come up with a strategy for how I was going to accomplish this. But no, of course I just grabbed her under her shoulders and started heaving. I got her waist out and her body slumped over the side of the swing. Her legs were still stuck in the holes and I had lost my “oomph” to keep pulling her upwards. I froze for about half a second and thought, “Dear sweet Jesus please give me the strength to not drop my kid and make her dangle by her ankles on this stupid swing.” 

The second the prayer left my brain I realized, DUH her giant boots were blocking the leg holes. My fingers barely reached the top of her boots and I was miraculously able to slide them off her feet. Within seconds she wriggled her legs out of the holes to freedom. As we both looked at each other and giggled about our silly fiasco, I realized, she really is a big kid now…no more baby swings. 

Everyone says it happens so fast. You’ll blink and it’s over. Your baby is gone and it has been replaced with this little person who just never. stops. talking. You now have a kid who has her own grand ideas about sitting in baby swings and laughing about it. For me, the transition hasn’t quite felt like blinking. It’s been more like that whole hills and valleys metaphor. You know, the valleys are where everything is all nice and easy, there’s wildflowers and the terrain isn’t as rough. It still might be a little rocky here and there but it’s nothing compared to scaling a mountain-side. For me as a first-time parent, babyhood was a glorious valley of adorable squishiness…and then, all too soon, there came the mountain climb of tantrum-filled toddlerhood.

When I first got pregnant, I didn’t really daydream past the baby stage. I knew that based on my personality, babyhood would be the magnificent valley I had always dreamed of. Yes, of course there would be LOTS of growing and learning that would take place, but I knew it wouldn’t stretch and test me the same way toddlerhood eventually would. I knew the season of life would undoubtedly come where I would have to take my girl by the hand and we would both, together, have to climb the inevitable mountain of growing up. However, little did I know that it would more accurately involve me chasing after her like a crazy person, trying to slow her down, and trying with all my might to figure her out.

Somehow, by the grace of the most amazing God, we both survived. There were times where I didn’t know if my sanity would remain intact. There were days when I questioned if her staying home with me was really the best thing for her. 

I remember one morning I was leaving to go get groceries and tried giving her a hug before I left. She doesn't like hugs. I knew this, yet I persisted. So instead of embracing me like my foolish wishful thinking had hoped, she pulled away, kicked me in the stomach and said “I don luhh you Mom!” I glanced up at my husband with tears starting to form in my eyes and as he started to try to say something to make me feel better I put my hand up and said, “Thanks sweetie, but I just need to leave now.” The last thing I needed was for my child to see me crying.

At the time we were on a pretty tight grocery budget, but on that day I got myself a white raspberry mocha from Starbucks. As I slowly sipped my coffee while perusing the aisles at Target I kept whispering to myself  'My child loves me. My child loves me.' Now, don't get me wrong. She wasn't a mommy-kicking monster all the time. She had her many sweet moments and countless silly ones too. But, I'm embarrassed to admit how much the monster moments crushed me. I can't even tell you how many times my husband has had to console me by saying things like 'You KNOW she loves you Babe.’ I realized over a very grueling and sometimes painful journey up our mountain that learning what she needed from me would be a process. When I started the parenthood stage I just assumed that my kids would need me to be their mom and that the definition of that would be whatever naturally came out of me. I was so very wrong with my feisty, strong-willed little force. It took a lot of prayer, self reflection and patience to finally start to piece together what she needed from me. In my prayers I would ask God why she acted the way she did. Why won’t she just hug me? Why does she fight with me on everything?? During those moments of prayer when I was waiting for an answer, God nudged me to the thought that I need to start seeing HER. I need to ask questions like, “What does she need from me in this moment?” instead of trying to mold her into what I thought she should be. She doesn’t need hugs. And that’s perfectly ok. Instead, she needs me to sit down with her in her room and let her explain how to play the new game she invented during quiet time. That’s what fills her up and makes her feel special. 

As we continued on our trek up that mountain, the more I started to figure her out. And the more I figured her out, the more I noticed the gap between us beginning to close. I wasn’t chasing after her in panic mode anymore.

Then, finally, after a grueling climb of trudging (sometimes crawling) and persevering, the monumental day finally came when she turned four. The moment she reached that age milestone it was like a switch turned on in her brain. We had finally made it to the peak of that seemingly endless climb. And on that mountaintop we were blessed with the glorious, magnificent descent into the valley of being a preschooler. It’s much more peaceful here. There’s less tantrums, there’s sentences that include the words, “Ok Mom that will be a good idea.” It’s so freakin beautiful. Now, her sense of humor has grown to the point where we can have inside jokes and I can lovingly tease her about how sometimes I just NEED a big cuddle-hug from my baby girl. She obliges with rolling her eyes and trying to distract me with a question or anecdote from her day. We can laugh about our differences now.

My baby is not a baby anymore. We’re steering clear of baby swings, I’ve packed up all her little rompers and have started to forget just how chubby her little cheeks were. I thought leaving her valley of babyhood would be heartbreaking, but what I forgot to think about is that there is inevitably another valley on the other side. Yes, it looks very different. I’m now walking with my girl holding her hand-no longer chasing after her in a full on panic. I’m taking what I learned on that trek up the mountain about who she is and applying that to what she needs from me as her mom. Of course I know there will be many more mountains for us to climb together, but for now, I’m going to soak this in. We worked really hard to get here, so I’m going to enjoy it.

Have you had any "monster moments" with your kids? Did you have to buy yourself a coffee to feel better too? :) 

Blessings,

Shantastic