Just like that.

1 Comment March 19, 2019 drworobec

There are seasons of parenthood where you can see childhood stages coming to an end. Diapers lead into potty-training, cribs lead into beds, and nursing/bottles eventually wean. In my experience, these stages have had a build-up, a preparatory phase, a time of transition whereby I could mull things over in my analytical brain and get a handle on my emotional brain. As a parent, of course each new childhood stage brings excitement and the chance to watch my kids grow and prosper, but another part of me mourns the passing of the previous stage.

When I was younger, being a mother was never on my radar. I didn’t play with dolls and dream about having children like some little girls do; in fact, I used to wonder if I had any maternal instinct in me at all. But when my son was born in 2009, my new role turned into my life’s greatest joy. As I’ve been along for the ride of watching these little people grow, my joy has also grown.

But with each passing stage, there’s a tiny bit of me that wonders if I soaked it up enough while it was happening right in front of me. Did I cherish their curled-up newborn bodies? Their haphazard crawling styles? Their oh-so-sweet toddler-speak? Their unsteady gait? I can’t recall their baby coos or three-word sentences unless I see them on old videos, and the clear memories of their first steps and their first words are already waning. They say that the days are long but the years are short. They’re right.

So, when we ended a parenting stage abruptly this weekend, I didn’t even see it coming.

You see, my daughter, who just turned seven last week, has been crawling into our bed halfway through the night for nearly four years. Some of you may be shocked by that, but it’s never been a big deal to us. Our house has a main-floor Master with kid’s bedrooms upstairs, and when we moved in 2015, her three-year-old self found comfort by wandering down the stairs, usually between midnight and 2am, and sleeping snuggled in between my husband and I. At first, we attributed it to the move and all the changes in her life, and then it just became a habit we didn’t care to change. Yes, some nights we got kicked by little feet and elbows, but most of the time she was a welcomed addition who whispered to me a “mom, snuggle” request that became our pattern. I knew it wouldn’t last forever, and I wanted to soak it up for as long as I could.

This past Friday night, we returned from a March-break vacation in Arizona, with a three-hour time change to manage. As I tucked her in much later than usual, I mentioned that she needed to stay in her room that night, rather than coming downstairs with us. I had to be at work early on Saturday morning, and my 7:30am alarm would feel like 4:30am in Phoenix; she needed to sleep in and get her body rested instead of waking up with me. And she did stay in her bed all night, likely exhausted from travel and a busy trip. The next morning she proudly announced: “I don’t need to sleep in your bed anymore. I’m going to stay in my bed all night from now on.”

Just like that.

And she did. For three nights there were no pitter-patter of little feet on the stairs, no drinks from the sippy cup on my nightstand, no tip-toeing out of my bedroom in the morning to allow a sleeping child to slumber. Done. Onto the next stage, and I didn’t even see it coming. And then last night, I awoke to find her beside me once again.

So although this stage is ending, it’s not finished quite yet. Have I soaked it up enough? Without a doubt.

But I’ll still miss it.

My baby is not such a baby anymore.

September: we can do it.

2 Comments September 20, 2016 drworobec

Guys, I’m not going to lie. My world has been rocked these past few weeks. The September transition is always a huge one for our family, and this year it has been even more amplified, as 3/4 of my family members (one husband, two children) headed back to school. For me, that’s meant a huge increase in my work hours and a big shift in the everyday life I’ve known for the past several years. And all of this whirlwind of change has happened very suddenly, after the adventures of Summer. Whew. I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed and mentally drained, emotionally fragile and physically exhausted.

I know this will pass. I know it’s the transition that is the hardest part. But when you’re in the eye of the storm, it’s hard to see through it to the blue skies on the other end. We’ll get there.

Why am I telling you this? Well, truth be told I really debated whether or not I should share this stuff online. Part of me craves privacy, part of me wants to keep up a stoic facade, but the bigger part of me wanted to let you know that I go through this stuff too. This struggle in particular, I want to be public, because I know so many of you are going through this with me. Change is hard, and when you couple change with parenthood stress it can seem unmanageable.

I’m looking inward and focusing on me, and that’s what I’ll continue to do until this chaos passes. I’m still running, I’m still going to the gym, I’m still focused on my nutrition and my sleep. I have learned that I need all of these things to function at my best. And in periods of stress, I need them more than ever, albeit I’m getting them in irregular proportions.

Take care of yourselves so that you can continue to give all that you can. Times of stress are not times to skip taking care of you, they are times to prioritize taking care of you.

If you’re going through this transition at your house too, hang in there. We can do it.

This works for us.

Leave a comment November 10, 2015 drworobec

I find myself parenting differently the second time around. My expectations have shifted and my this-is-what-the-parenting-books-say has completely disappeared. I think I’m a better parent because of it.

A prime example of this are my three-year-old daughter’s sleep habits. We moved a couple of months ago, and she developed a new routine. Our new house has a main-floor Master bedroom, and nearly every night, she tip-toes downstairs in the middle of the night and crawls into our bed. Most nights I don’t even hear her, and I will often wake with her little body pressed up against mine. Not only do I not mind this even a little bit, I actually need it too. I’m still adjusting to my own “new normals” and there’s a big part of me that feels safe and secure when my children are at my side. Content and happy, calm and peaceful, just how life is meant to be. She snuggles into me and whispers, “Mama, can we snuggle?” with her sleep-drunk voice and her bedhead hair. So I wrap my arms around her and we fall back to sleep, both comforted by the fact that we’re together.

But I find it interesting that I’ve never questioned the “should I put her back in her own bed?” part. If my son, my first-born, had done the same, I likely would’ve done what many parenting books suggest: that children need to sleep in their own beds. I likely would’ve walked him back upstairs to his room, and put him back to bed. Because that’s what I “should” do. Or, more accurately, that’s what I perceived I should do. But now I realize that parenting is so much more enjoyable if you simply do what works for your own unique family in your own unique situation.

This works for us.