Any mother these days knows that once you begin to have children, you are bound to start hearing remarks like, “It only lasts for a season” and “I’m sure it’s just a stage.” Those remarks are indeed true and I’ve experienced them first-hand. I may even go as far to say I’m an expert in these so called seasons and stages of life.
Why am I an expert you may ask? Well, the short answer is because I’m a terrible life planner. The longer, more accurate answer is that at 41 years of age, I am experiencing three very major and very different seasons of life as a mother. All. At. The. Same. Time.
Having an almost 15-year-old, four-year-old and six-month-old is not for the weak. I repeat: it is not for the weak. It is not for the unorganized. It is not for the impatient. And Lord knows it is not for the spontaneous. If we are being honest here, it’s really not even for anyone who wants to have a decent social life.
Let’s start with general awake/asleep times.
You see, the six-month-old is the early bird arising each morning at the tender hour of 5:30-6am, while the almost 15-year-old keeps the night fires burning way longer than I could even attempt to stay up. So my day starts with stumbling around the kitchen for coffee and a bottle, and ends with my stumbling around the kitchen once again helping put together or clean up snacks because teenagers become ravenous creatures between 10-11 pm. **The four-year-old is kind of in the middle here waking and going to bed at a reasonable hour. He wins best kid award for his awake/asleep times.
Now let’s move onto activities.
Cue car ride. 14-year-old wants to listen to semi-inappropriate rap music while the four-year-old wants to listen to the Frozen II soundtrack on repeat while the six-month-old only wants to hear his light up mirror play. Usually we adopt the “you get one song, then you get one song,” etc., but earbuds have also proven helpful during this time.
Once we finally arrive at said activity and we are all on each other’s nerves, the fun can finally begin. There are really no indoor activities that a 14-year-old, four-year-old, and six- month-old can all participate in, so we usually land at the park and it’s time to divide and conquer. As I send my 14-year-old off either on a bike to ride the trails or with a fishing pole for the pond, I go over the usual rules — keep your phone handy, don’t talk to strangers, etc. — while I silently pray as he walks away that he doesn’t crash his bike, fall in the water or get kidnapped because I cannot get anywhere quickly with the two little ones.
I release the four-year-old to the playground because I can see it from the car and he doesn’t want to waste seven minutes of playtime waiting on me to get the baby out of the car seat and strapped into another device such as the stroller or the carrier. (By the way, I’m already sweating profusely.) I make it down to the playground just in time to say “I’m watching” and “Yay” as he goes down his favorite bumpy slide. It’s then that I smell something and realize that the baby took advantage of the fresh diaper I put on him before we left the house. “Honey I know you’ve only gone down the slide three times but we have to go change the baby’s diaper” (cue dragging four-year-old kicking and screaming to the back of my van because it’s way closer than the bathroom).
Back to the playground we go and I steal a glance at the dock way down the hill. Do I see my oldest? Is that his fishing pole? Another silent prayer goes up. I continue this emotional ping-pong for the next hour and engage all kinds of thoughts and feelings like knowing my oldest has been kidnapped to knowing my baby is getting sunburned or dehydrated and KNOWING (because he tells me) that I’m not watching my four-year-old go down the slide enough.
After 60 minutes, we all pile back in the van. We are sweaty, we are cranky, and we are probably hungry, but I also know that in a small way we are all happy. Happy to be outside, happy to tell each other our favorite part, happy to not really have a schedule that day.
I did it. I made a teenager, a preschooler, and an infant happy. I am a superhero…and I’m picking the music on the way home.
Yes! I am there with you! I’m 41 and have a 15 y/o daughter, 11 y/o son, and a 1 y/o son. Lawhamercy, I’m tired! 😆 We all also homeschool, so yeah. I may literally be on my way to the retirement village when the youngest graduates college, but we’re in this now, so what you do?!! Thank you for writing this! There aren’t a ton of mamas running around who feel this kind of stretch, and it’s just good to hear that I’m not the only one who struggles to keep everybody moving in the same direction!