Delighted or Disillusioned? Low energy parent, high energy kid

Mom, can’t we please go to the park?” seven-year-old Elisa asked as she pulled on my arm.

Arghh. I’d just settled—finally—into the recliner for a little coffee break after working all afternoon at my in-home office. I’ll get so cold standing on that playground watching her! Do I have to? I thought.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather cuddle and read a story?” I asked.

“Aww, c’mon, Mom. I want to swing on the monkey bars.”

Sigh. “Okay,” I said, struggling to hide my exasperation. I knew she simply had to get outside to do something active or she’d beg me all evening to take her out. It was simply the way she was wired. Chalk up one more to the sacrifices of motherhood. I got our coats.

At the park, I impatiently shifted my feet back and forth. I blew out my white breath. I clapped my gloves together to keep warm. “Just ten more minutes!” I called out, as Elisa shimmied up a pole to some very high bars.

She swung powerfully, back and forth, back and forth. Startled out of my discomfort and impatience, I marveled at her coordination, and not for the first time.

“Wow, that’s great!” I cried out. I never could have done that as a kid—nor would I have even wanted to! What makes her that way? She obviously didn’t inherit the klutz gene from me.

While Elisa played, I thought about how she’d always used her whole body to express her personality. She never walked downstairs, she leapt—four steps at a time. She was compelled to get in her quota of at least 1,642 cartwheels per day. I wondered: when was it that she first earned the nickname Monkey?

Perhaps it was when, at age two and a half, she declared she’d climb the rock wall at the outdoor store REI (and did so a few short years later). Or perhaps it was the day when she was only sixteen months old when, horrified, I spotted her crawling across the top of the monkey bars on our backyard swing set. As I ran to save her, she nonchalantly climbed back down! Hmm. Or was she already our Monkey at a mere three months, incessantly standing on our laps as we held her? I wondered: if she could have grabbed my rib cage before she was born, would she have swung from that? What makes her so nimble and so adventurous?

Suddenly I realized we had to scoot to make it to Costco before the store closed. Elisa and I left the park, picked up Aimee, and I fought traffic as the kids bickered in the backseat.

“Stop that!” I said.

“It’s her fault!” they chorused.

“It takes two to make a fight!” I replied very loudly and impatiently. (And that made three.)

As we entered the warehouse, Elisa’s face lit up at the sight of those wonderfully wide, long aisles. She impulsively cartwheeled through the office-supply section. I cried, “Look out!” as her foot nearly connected with a customer’s chin. I apologized, embarrassed. Frustration mounted as I approached the long checkout lines.

Later that evening, I guiltily looked forward to a quiet house with kids nestled in their beds. But my first request to “Get on your PJs and brush your teeth now” fell on deaf ears, as Elisa attempted some last-minute acrobatics.

“Okay, okay,” I grumbled, “just three more somersaults down the hall and that’s it—uh-oh! Watch the lamp!” So much for the trip to the park to help release her energy.

Eventually, Elisa’s sweet, high voice called from down the hall, “Mommy, Daddy, tuck-in!” We went into her room and bent over for the obligatory chain of butterfly kisses, fishy kisses, and Eskimo kisses. But as I nuzzled her soft face, I was drawn in. I lingered. My little pixie grinned charmingly—minus a few teeth the tooth fairy had taken—and sighed, “You’re the best mom in the whole wide world!”

Hardly, I thought. Yet my heart lifted. A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth as I recalled Costco cartwheels, somersaults down the hall…and her enthusiasm for life and tenderness toward me. My weariness from caring for an energetic child was replaced by delight in her and the privilege of being her mother. I’m so glad I’m her mom, I thought as I switched off the light. I couldn’t wait to tuck in Aimee next!

EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER 1 in:  Delight in Your Child’s Design, Second Edition,  Copyright 2016, Laurie Winslow Sargent. All Rights Reserved.

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Adjusting to Life as a New Mom

I originally wrote this article for Christian Parenting Today magazine for a Your Child Today column. It was later included in the hardcover book, Christian Parenting Answers: Before Birth to Five Years Old (Chariot Family Publishing, 1994), edited by Debra Evans with articles by Dr. William Sears, Grace Ketterman, V. Gilbert Beers, Mary Manz Simon, Kay Kuzma, Patricia Rushford and myself. At that time we were all contributing editors for Christian Parenting Today (300,000 circ.) which is out of print now, although many of the articles were later moved to Christianity Today and Today’s Christian Woman online.

Parenting books often don’t tell you what the first months of mothering are really like.

Here are some aspects of being a mom that you may never have imagined until after your baby was born:

Sudden, constant responsibility for another human being.

Where’s baby? How’s baby? Not a minute passes that a corner of your brain is not focused on your child. Even when she sleeps, you listen for fussing. In your shower, you lather up quickly – fearing you’ll miss her cry. This can drain you mentally and emotionally.

You can cope by occasionally giving someone else full responsibility. Then, let your mind go blank. Perhaps you’re so in love with your child this seems unnecessary. But a break will allow you to come back to her more energetic and at peace.

Some suggestions here will seem like common sense to anyone developing expertise as a mama. But some new moms, feeling overwhelmed and exhausted, need simple struggles acknowledged. And if you’re in that position right now, you may appreciate simple reminders that it’s OK to take some pressure off yourself. One of the biggest adjustments for new moms, especially with Type A personalities, is the realization you can’t control as much as you used to. But it’s all worth it!

New dress code.

After spit-up blurps your third freshly ironed shirt in a row, you may feel like crying. Instead, take a realistic look at your closet contents. Put away almost everything that requires dry cleaning, hand washing or ironing. Replace them with new, fun sweatshirts. Keep a few dress clothes for church and occasional date with hubby. (Don’t worry — this won’t be your wardrobe forever! The key is to make life a little easier on yourself right now without worrying about any more laundry than necessary!)

Lack of spontaneity.

Even going to the bank or grocery store becomes a hassle: Pack the diaper bag with its dozen items. Need the stroller? Front pack? Is baby napped, changed, fed and burped?

Instead of feeling exasperated for only accomplishing two errands, congratulate yourself if you finish one. Despite the hassle, don’t avoid weekend trips. They make for a nice change of scene.

Believe it or not, you will indeed develop new routines that work and travel will become easier too.

Time-consuming baby care.

Do you sit in your bathrobe, watching dirty dishes mount? Diapering and feeding take hours of time and volumes of energy. A fussy baby can steal away your whole day. Who has time for housework—there’s barely time to dress and feed yourself.

If you feel like a failure, don’t. You’re shaping a human being—enjoy it. Marvel at those tiny fingers. Beam back at that toothless smile. It won’t last long. If housework trumpets at you and you can’t answer its call, ignore it for a time or ask for help.

Sleep deprivation.

When your child wakes you all night, you can be a zombie the next day. You’re more emotional, confused and tired. Parenting books say, “Sleep when baby sleeps.” But there are a million other things you’d like to do in that minuscule hour or two.

Daytime sleep may seem a time-waster, but if you’re exhausted, don’t fight it. Your body must catch up eventually. Poor nutrition and lack of sleep can affect breast milk supply when nursing. If baby won’t nap, let someone else mind her so you can rest. Bits and pieces of sleep never feel quite like a straight eight hours, so adjust expectations for yourself until your child sleeps all night.

Lastly, you were probably least prepared for:

Overpowering love for your child.

You lack time, style, spontaneity, sleep and (apparently) accomplishments. At times there may seem to be more lows than highs. But the joys of mothering can pull you up to the top, too—breathless and ecstatic. Savor those moments. Drink in the view at the top—it makes it all worth it.