Reflections on My Parenting Choices

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As I lie on the bed, my 2 ½-year-old is whining yet again, and the only solution is nursing. If I don’t respond, he’ll escalate to full-blown screams, which would disturb his older brothers, ages 4 and 6, who are squished together on the adjacent bed. They cling to my partner like barnacles, each demanding space on his outstretched arm while he tries to catch some sleep. Meanwhile, the baby continues to nurse, occasionally grabbing at the opposite side, leaving me torn between the comfort of this half-sleep and the desire for him to just wake up.

Had we placed them in cribs when they were infants, I suspect none of this chaos would exist. We could have tucked them in by 8 p.m. and enjoyed a peaceful night. Just imagining it feels like bliss. While I stand by our decision to co-sleep, there are moments I find myself yearning for a different path.

There are other parenting choices I ponder as well. Take extended breastfeeding. I believe my 4-year-old has weaned, but he thinks otherwise. When he gets upset, he lunges at me, declaring, “Mama milk!” I have to say no, which only intensifies his cries. Similarly, my 2 ½-year-old approaches me, asking for milk, and when I respond with “not now,” a toddler tantrum ensues. This morning, he wailed for half an hour simply because I wouldn’t nurse him. I nearly gave in, but I knew that would set a precedent. So, I held my sobbing toddler while my oldest son attempted to focus on his reading.

If I had weaned them around 18 months, I doubt I’d be dealing with these demands now. While I appreciate the comfort that nursing brings during meltdowns or when they’re feeling unwell, it can certainly be a hassle. I’ve long since stopped wearing nursing-friendly clothing, which means I’m often flashing people and ruining my bras whenever I nurse.

I also regret my firm stance against using strollers. My babies were lovingly wrapped and carried close to me. I had a collection of carriers, and I even taught babywearing classes. However, once they grew too big for being wrapped, they outright refused to ride in the cart. My children, feeling too sophisticated, insisted on walking through the store at age 2. If I had introduced strollers more frequently, they might have been accustomed to sitting in one, allowing for a less stressful shopping experience. I cherish those moments of wrapping my younger two, but sometimes, I wish they would just sit in the cart.

Then there’s the matter of homeschooling. Some days, we breeze through reading, math, and science with joyful ease. Other days, it devolves into chaos when my oldest struggles with phonics while the younger ones disrupt everything. The preschooler and toddler shift from playing with dough to mashing it into the carpet, and the baby screams in my lap. My oldest, overwhelmed, wants everyone to settle down so he can concentrate. You can see the frustration on his face.

I love the homeschooling journey, but there are days when I fantasize about enrolling them in school. I’d deal with the hassle of drop-off lines, but I’d gain a few precious hours of freedom. I could clean, write, do laundry, or even indulge in a little self-care. I recognize this longing for freedom is likely unrealistic, but some days, it feels like a dream worth pursuing.

And then there’s the thought that crosses my mind: should we have spanked our children? We chose against it, believing that violence doesn’t teach positive lessons. We’ve read the research that suggests it can do more harm than good. We prefer to focus on understanding their behavior and providing appropriate consequences. Yet, when one of them leaps from the kitchen table onto plastic bins, I find myself wishing I could deliver a swift smack—not out of malice but sheer frustration. While I know it wouldn’t solve the underlying issues, I can’t deny the fleeting thought that it would feel satisfying.

Every parent experiences moments of regret or longing for alternatives. The grass may seem greener on the other side, but we all strive to make the best choices for our children, utilizing what we know works for them. Yet, it’s perfectly natural to occasionally wish for something different.

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Summary

In reflecting on my parenting journey, I’ve encountered moments of doubt about my decisions, from co-sleeping and extended breastfeeding to homeschooling and avoiding strollers. While I cherish the choices I’ve made, I also grapple with the occasional desire for a different approach. Ultimately, every parent experiences similar feelings—it’s all part of the journey.