In my early days of motherhood, I vividly recall a playdate from eight years ago. At the time, my first child was a toddler, and I was expecting a daughter. I had already encountered several parenting hurdles, from the difficulties of breastfeeding to sleepless nights with a baby who refused to sleep through the night. Potty training? Don’t even get me started.
However, when it came to behavior and discipline, I felt confident. My son was the model child at that playdate—sitting quietly, engrossed in books and methodically building with blocks. He never even considered jumping off furniture or tossing toys around. In stark contrast, other children were full of energy and mischief, and I found myself shaking my head in judgment. What was wrong with these kids? Why couldn’t their moms control them?
A few months later, my daughter arrived, and I was fortunate to find her temperament similar to her brother’s—calm, well-behaved, and easy to manage. I maintained my self-righteous stance while observing other parents with more rambunctious children. But then, the universe decided it was time to humble me with the arrival of my third child—a boy who would turn my preconceived notions upside down.
As soon as he started walking, the signs were clear. When I attempted to read to him, he hurled the book at me; when he stacked stools to reach forbidden cookies, I realized karma was serving me a hefty dose of humility.
Thus began my journey of understanding the challenges faced by mothers of what society deems “wild children.” I know now what it’s like to deal with a child whose limbs and volume seem uncontrollable. I’ve experienced the judging stares from strangers when my son climbs out of the shopping cart or knocks over cans in the grocery aisle.
At church, while my older kids could sit quietly for an hour, my youngest would wander the pew, blissfully unaware of the concept of whispering. He’s the child who goes up the slide backwards, cuts in line for cupcakes, and has a knack for breaking priceless items.
During a routine pediatric visit, I watched my son bounce around the examination room, tossing sanitary paper and plotting a game of “The Floor is Lava.” The doctor, noticing my distress, reassured me, “He’s a healthy, normal little boy.” I was perplexed. After raising two well-behaved children, I struggled to comprehend my third’s impulsive behavior. My pediatrician explained that young children often don’t grasp consequences until after the fact, much like teenagers. This insight brought clarity, though challenges remain.
Through my experiences, I’ve learned that my son is not a bad child; he simply expresses his enthusiasm differently. If he accidentally hits someone with a toy, it’s not malice, but rather an invitation to play. If he cuts in line, it’s just an impulsive choice he doesn’t overthink.
Moreover, I’ve come to appreciate the efforts of mothers with energetic children. We discipline our kids and strive to guide them while acknowledging their unique needs. My son can’t sit still for long periods, which means adjusting my expectations. I’ve realized that he requires different stimulation, and a simple sticker chart won’t suffice.
The reality is that if anyone ever gives him caffeine, we might be in serious trouble. My third child has reshaped my parenting approach. Now, when planning activities, we consider whether he’ll have the freedom to move and express himself. If not, we simply opt out. He has a lifetime to learn restraint; for now, he’ll enjoy life’s adventures with exuberance that often leaves me with gray hairs.
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In summary, my journey has taught me valuable lessons about acceptance, empathy, and the importance of understanding that every child is unique. I’ve learned to appreciate the efforts of mothers who face similar challenges and to recognize that we’re all doing our best in this wild adventure called parenting.