Often, when I’m out with my children, strangers will approach to wax nostalgic about their own children’s early years.
“Enjoy every moment,” some say.
“They are just so fun at this age,” sigh others.
Or my personal favorite, “It just doesn’t get any better than this, does it?”
Apparently they don’t recall hauling their own whining, kicking child out of the supermarket after a battle of wills over peanut butter M&Ms.
Indeed there are some beautiful things about having a young family. If you’re paying attention, you get to observe as personalities, relationships and imaginations develop. But, as only those truly in the trenches can appreciate, there are many reasons why the early years can be the most challenging.
Here is my list of the things I love and hate about having children under age 5. I would love to hear yours.
I love youthful curiosity and how my children make me take note of the beauty all around me.
I hate wrenching cigarette butts, hardened dog poop, rocks, firecrackers and all sorts of other contraband out of tightly clenched fists (or mouths).
I love the weight of my cuddly, sleepy children on my chest. They give themselves over to me with no hesitation.
I hate being a jungle gym – all day, every day.
I love the biceps I’ve built while constantly carrying my children.
I hate holding a squirming 20-pound child while vacuuming the entire house – all because she is convinced that the machine will suck them up.
I love those rare moments when I get to step back and observe how their tiny minds and bodies are perfecting new tasks.
I hate tying three sets of shoelaces, brushing three sets of teeth and wiping three behinds.
I love hearing my child whisper Mama for the first time, in an adorable teeny little voice.
I hate hearing my children yell Mama, over and over and over again — for no apparent reason.
I love the development of my motherly instincts.
I hate seeing, in terrifying clarity, little motion-picture “what-ifs” play in my mind. What if he falls from that ledge? What if the gate isn’t shut? What if someone kidnaps her? What if a mountain lion snags him right from the trail and runs away with him?
I love how freely they love me, without peer pressure or social norms pulling them away.
I hate how tremendous love can so easily breed guilt, an ugly emotion and one that I am constantly battling.
I love bearing witness to the beginnings of their relationship as brother and sister.
I hate breaking up fights.
I love children’s toys. Who doesn’t love balls, bubbles and sprinklers?
I hate stumbling over a sea of Hot Wheels cars, building blocks and baby doll dresses.
I love to watch them grow up, as they slowly become the people they are meant to be.
I hate to watch them grow up, waxing nostalgic (as so many do) about the versions of themselves that they are leaving behind.
