Life and Toddlers: It’s Just a Phase

Alongside ‘I don’t know how you cope‘, the other most annoying phrase I hear as a mum is, ‘it’s just a phase‘. What, you mean my son won’t be taking three hours to fall asleep when he’s 15 years old? What about when he’s 37? You mean he won’t be jumping on my head in the middle of the night any more demanding toast/milk/stories? Or what about climbing on every table top he can find, are you sure he won’t be doing that in his first job? Perhaps you could tell me exactly when these phases will end so I can just book in some sleep now?

I mean, I don’t want to sound #ungrateful but I do realise this. I do realise that everyday some phase or other will end (and a new one will begin).

But when you tell me it’s just a phase, it doesn’t reassure me that things will get better. No, I hear two very different things when you say this.

1. I hear you telling me it doesn’t matter.

Believe me, it more than matters.

Phases can be painful, exhausting and annoying no matter how short they are. If they were painful, exhausting, annoying and they weren’t a phase then I don’t dare think what parents up and down the country would be doing.

Phases are life. Phases matter. 

Just because your child will be doing your nut in in a different way in six days/weeks/months/years time, doesn’t mean that the thing they are doing now. Right.This.Second – the thing which is driving you insane and pushing you to your absolute limit, and beyond – doesn’t matter. No, it means it matters more than ever.

Just because “it’s just a phase” doesn’t mean it’s not exhausting. It’s mind numbingly so. 

Just because “it’s just a phase”doesn’t mean that it’s not hard to deal with. It’s insanely so.

Just because “it’s just a phase”doesn’t mean I don’t need help. I need shed loads of it. 

I mean, no-one can enjoy the shitty moments right? I think we all get that. But why can’t we talk about them? Why can’t we get a bit of understanding for quite how shitty they are? Why are they less important just because they won’t last forever. After all, nothing lasts forever. Does that mean nothing is worthy of discussion? What about some whinging and empathising, is that allowed?

Sometimes I don’t understand how people can’t understand how hard it is. Then I realise, I’m exactly the same. Even with this phase now. This ‘lets not sleep for three hours then let’s scream my head off numerous times through the night about things like, “I want the wall to move… NOW mummy!”‘ phase. I can’t possibly imagine anyone else going through anything quite as painful and exhausting as this. I mean, I’m so close to losing my shit and Never.Coming.Back (I lose my shit in a recoverable manner most days), that it makes me think it can’t possibly be that bad for others. If it was that bad for them too then how did they manage to get to work this morning? How did they wash their hair? I mean I’m so close to not functioning its almost an insult to believe that anyone else copes (better than me) through similar crap. I know that’s not true though, I know plenty of all mums and dads struggle. When you don’t know how you can get through one more minute of this phase, let alone another day, then knowing it’s just a phase doesn’t help. 

2. It brings it home to me that everything is just a phase, including all the good bits. 

I know, believe me I know, that for every hard thing in motherhood, there is an amazing thing. Each blissful moment is paired with a blistering one. You can’t have one phase without the other.

Just as much as my son’s seemingly endless demands for milk will eventually end, so will his desire to curl up in bed with me. And damn it, I love waking up next to his little body. It’s just a phase, but it’s just a phase that I love.

Just as much as his inability to sleep without fifty seven lullabies sung to him, seventeen books read to him and as many attempts to jump out of bed and run downstairs as it’s possible to fit into a three hour time-frame (it’s a hell of a lot by the way), will end, so will his desire to have me there as he closes his eyes and falls asleep. And that’s a pretty special moment to watch.

Just as his inability to know how to behave safely (you know, like no forks in the toaster please) will end, so will his desire, curiosity and openness to learn in Every.Single.Second he has on this earth. And that’s pretty awesome to observe.

I’m not saying we should enjoy every moment of motherhood. That’s impossible, and slightly weird. But when you remind me that the hair pulling and head butting are all just a phase, I remember that so are the wondrous, amazing, beautiful moments that I alone am witnessing and all too soon forgetting. These moments that I am unable to share or reminisce about with anyone. These are also all just passing phases; here, but not quite here, because the chaos all around me disturbs them and pushes them away, always just

out

of

reach.

 

The shitty phases aren’t just hard in their own moments. I can’t switch off my emotions and tiredness when my son flips between the good and bad phases at the drop of a hat. I mean, of course I’m not enjoying the times when we both cry hysterically in bed in the middle of the night. When nothing will calm him down and my reserve tank is beyond empty. Who would?

Thanks to these shitty phases, I’m also not able to enjoy all the great moments that follow. When these phases become too much, I also become shitty. You know, those days where yesterday’s phase means you don’t have the strength to deal with today’s parenting challenge. Just the other day I stood on the train with silent tears sliding down my face, muttering swear words as my son screamed and shouted from his buggy, and all the carriage turned to stare.

Yes, I know that’s shitty parenting. But don’t worry, it’s just a phase. 

 

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