The sweet spot of parenting
This month my children turn three and five. I can’t believe I am writing that. I am feeling all the clichés that come with children growing up (“it only felt like two minutes ago”, “I don’t feel old enough”), that I now have one child who is at school and one who will be starting next year. But perhaps more unbelievable, is that I am not just enjoying this stage of motherhood, but genuinely, truly, sincerely loving it!
My oldest was born in February 2020, a year that needs no introduction. The year the world stopped, everything went a bit mad, and we seemingly never quite recovered. My daughter was just five weeks old when the UK went into the first lockdown. I remember while pregnant people would tell me of the shock that in the first two weeks after giving birth you will be flooded with guests wanting to meet your baby and then they leave, and your partner goes back to work, and you are alone. Except, I truly was alone. Rates of postnatal depression more than doubled between 2014 and 20201 and I was one of the many new parents during this time that struggled – I was lonely in every sense of the word, sleep-deprived, scared of what both The World and My World looked like and I truly hated what my life had become.
Thankfully, after seeing a brilliant therapist, support from friends and family, and the passing of time meaning life got back to some normality, I began to get back into my groove before we had another baby, almost exactly two years apart. This time the world felt a bit better; I could get out and about a bit, I met friends for dinner, I took my child to playgroup. Most importantly, I knew all the things I found difficult the first time around would eventually end and so while I wasn’t depressed, I still found this newborn stage of life depressing. I remember speaking to a health visitor (who was surprisingly brilliant given the terrible reputation) who was the first person to tell me it was fine to hate this stage of parenting, that it might not be for me and that’s ok, there will be a stage I do enjoy when I get there.
Of course, I thought this was complete bollocks at the time. People love to tell you “It’s just a phase” (which is surely the most annoying thing you can say to someone currently in that phase), but it is true. Little by little, slowly but surely, things start to become that bit easier, you realise you have slept all night, your child hasn’t cried all day, you have actually laughed!
And so here I am. I have found a phase I enjoy. This sweet interlude between the slog of newborn days and the angst of tween/teenagers.
In those early days, there were definite times I was envious of child free friends, seeing them travelling on relaxing holidays, eating out at nice (or even any!) restaurants, generally looking put together. But this feeling of envy has ebbed away over the years as my life shifts once again to enjoy travelling, eating out, exploring new places, but this time with my children in tow. Yes, travelling takes a bit more planning, and going out for dinner might mean furiously pulling out colouring books and pencils from a Mary Poppins bag, but I still love it. Last year we even managed a holiday without using any of the free child baggage – no prams, no car seats, no cots. A revelation!
Better still, with age comes independence and thus the freedom to go out to eat alone, mainly thanks to amazing grandparents but also because we can now leave our children, they aren’t attached to my nipple, they sleep through the night. We even managed a child-free weekend away the last couple of years, two days of sightseeing, wandering around without purpose before finding a nice bar to sit and have a drink in silence in. And no, this doesn’t mean I love my children any less, I just love a tiny little bit of my own time now and then.
Having two under two means for most of the last five years of my life, I have been pregnant or with a newborn, and it is only now that I feel I am really coming out of the fog of those newborn days. They are the best company, still in that sweet spot of being able to have independence yet needing (and wanting) us. Every day, I take my daughter to school, a 10-minute walk just the two of us to talk about the day. On the days I pick her up, we do the same thing in reverse, talking about how her day has been, who she has played with, what she has learnt. These 20 minutes are always the highlight of my day, when I get to hear about her achievements and worries. She doesn’t yet understand the concept of friendships groups or being popular. I am all too aware that with starting school, the trials of female friendships will soon surface, but for now she is blissfully happy in her own company, or the company of anyone who chooses to join in with her play. And while we might get an eye roll or two, full-on back chat hasn’t yet made an appearance. Both girls will often ask us to stay with them for a cuddle while they fall asleep, perhaps the second favourite time of my day.
My husband and I talk about romantic weekends away and yet I find myself wanting to take the kids. To explore these new places with them and discover things as a family. No longer do we need to spend our weekends at soft play (ok, some weekends), instead we can go out and do things we all enjoy. We can bond over shared interests. Last year my kids got into Strictly so every Saturday night was ‘dance night’ – we would let them stay up late in their PJs, with a hot chocolate dancing around to the TV.
Things aren’t perfect. My three-year-old is definitely guilty of the terrible threes, and some days are spent screaming at me or her sister. But, I’m sure, these days are becoming less and less. Both kids sleep through the night and well into 6am. We are out of both day and nighttime nappies. They can fairly reliably dress themselves and at least make an attempt at brushing their teeth. The immediate threat of self-injury has generally stalled.
But most importantly, I am still their favourite person. Still the person they want when they are happy or sad or angry or upset, who they run to show a new drawing, a cardboard masterpiece they have made or a new book they want to read. I am aware these days are fleeting, and this stage too shall one day pass, probably far too quickly for my liking. And I am looking forward to them getting older. While I truly wished for the newborn days to end, without regret, I am not so keen to move on now. It’s a very strange feeling of simultaneously wanting them to stay this little but being so excited to see them grow up and see what comes next.
But for now, these days are the best.
1. Harrison et al. 2023. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC10183799/