By Ariane Beeston
As I scooped another generous helping of peanut butter straight from the jar yesterday, I found myself silently chanting, “This too shall pass.”
It was day five of my toddler – who was once so easy to put to bed – fighting sleep and refusing to go down until late. After-9pm-kind-of-late.
All week, we’d tried stories, cuddles and our entire, collective repertoire of nursery rhymes and Wiggles songs. I had dragged a pillow and blanket into his room and collapsed beside him on the carpet, feigning sleep. Nothing worked. We let him call out for a little while — as long as inner-city living allows— going in periodically to reassure and soothe him. No deal.
Eyes rolling around in his head, he’d eventually pass out, and we’d limp into our own bed and crash.
I felt as though I’d hardly seen my husband all week. The once-sacred quiet hours we looked forward to spending together had been eroded by our adorable, but demanding, two-and-a-half-year-old. We’d fallen into what felt like a never-ending two-person relay, smiling wearily at one another as we took turns to try to settle him. We were both exhausted, physically and emotionally.
As I attacked the jar of peanut butter with a spoon and listened to my husband reading my son yet another story, the soothing, age-old mantra “This too shall pass”, repeated in my head. It’s a mantra that’s carried me through many challenging stages since I became a mum. I vividly recall those first few months, the sleep deprivation like an unshakable hangover, life occurring in three-hour stretches with no real delineation between night and day.
“This too shall pass,” I’d silently chant, desperately trying to stay awake during 2 am feeds.
The arrival of full-blown witching hours came next, long afternoons with a crying baby, trapped inside by winter rain. The pacing up and down the hallway, patting and sssh-ing and cooing. And sometimes, just bursting into tears and crying too. The relief was palpable when my husband’s key finally turned in the front door; I’d hand over a writhing, overtired bundle and disappear into the bathroom for a much-needed shower. “This too shall pass,” I’d silently chant under the roar of hot water.
“This too shall pass” is a mantra that’s carried me through many challenging stages since I became a mum.
Each month brought fresh challenges: My baby who once gobbled down everything in sight now only ate toast and strawberries. The dinner time battle of wills with tears, food thrown across the floor and the refusal to eat at all. Scattered sleep due to teething and cycles of colds and gastro after starting daycare.
I listened to my husband gently close my son’s bedroom door and tiptoe down the stairs. As he gave me a grin and a thumbs-up, it occurred to me… While there’s comfort in knowing that challenging stages do indeed pass, there’s something bittersweet about it too.
For each tricky phase, there are corresponding delights. When the round the clock feeds disappeared, so too did my tiny, 0000-wearing, snuggly newborn. When witching hour vanished (mostly) and teething finished. Also gone were the ridiculously chubby baby cheeks and dimply thighs.
Before going into meltdown at bedtime, my toddler had danced around the living room naked with abandon, asked the cat to join him and threw me smile after toothy smile. I know we won’t struggle with bedtime forever. There’ll also come a time when the living room carpet won’t be a stage, wearing clothes will be mandatory and scowls will, at least momentarily, replace the smiles.
With that in mind, I’ve decided that when next I’m chanting “This too shall pass” and hacking into the peanut butter, whether it’s about clingy daycare drop-offs, overnight waking, or refusal to eat anything but plain rice, I’m going to try to conjure up some of the good parts about that stage as well.
For I know that along with the tricky, stressful bits, some cute, quirky, funny things pass, too. Replaced by brand-new ones, of course.
Ariane Beeston is the author of Because I’m Not Myself, You See, and the communications manager at COPE, Centre of Perinatal Excellence.
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