This week was tired. This week was first spring flowers. This week was sleepless. This week was happily digging in the dirt. This week was new beginnings and tired ruts.
This week blessed me, and tested me. This week is over, and for that I am grateful.
My two-year-old did this weird thing where he alternated nights either sleeping like a log, or waking up like a newborn.
Half of the days this week I looked like this. Tired, haggard, beat.
The other days we woke up and played happily in beautiful, bright spring.
I have had this thought all week: parenthood is messy. It’s unpredictable. And all I can do is get better at accepting that.
I know my two-year-old is inching toward more of those good sleep nights. I know nightwaking in toddlers is normal (breastfed or not). I know I could try this or that technique to accelerate the process. I know it might work. I know it might fail.
Having gone through all these stages with my older son gives me a helpful perspective: no matter what you do or don’t do, all the stuff you are hoping will get easier (sleep, potty training, weaning, tantrums, etc.) has a way of working itself out in the end.
I still don’t know a lot about being a mom. I have only been at it for 8 years. But I know that some days I’ll be exhausted to the bone, and other days I’ll be running through fields of wildflowers with my kids (wouldn’t that be nice?).
So here’s to diving into the chaos. Letting go. Knowing that we know nothing. Accepting what is.