Mother – Page 14 – Rachel Craddock

I cringe every time I hear someone say the phrase.

It’s like anticipating a great meal at a restaurant and someone tells you, oh… but it’s terrible. Or the movie you’ve waited to see all year gets a terrible review and you read it right after purchasing your ticket.

Hearing the phrase “terrible twos” can be a major let down. It sets young mothers up to anticipate a year of pure horror. I cringe when I hear a more experienced mom telling a newer mom these words. It makes moms look at the year of two through a lens of negativity, anticipating the worst.

Now in all seriousness, I am a realist and I don’t live in on a fluffy cloud of sparkles with rainbows and unicorns. My children are just like all other children. They throw tantrums and disobey my voice. My children are opinionated, strong willed and have been found to lay face down on the floor crying during church. But my children are far from terrible.

My oldest is four and a half and my second born turns three in a few days. I am not an expert but I have recently lived through two (almost) consecutive years of life with a two year old (I have a twenty one month old as well so I am on the brink of another stab at it).

And I will say it. The twos aren’t terrible at all and I really wish I would stop hearing the bummer phrase. I am really on a mission to stop the phrase all together.

The year of two should be called “The Passionate Twos” instead.

Okay, so the alliteration is not there but the terrible defined is: to cause great fear or alarm or even dreadful.

In contrast, passionate defined is: capable of having or dominated by powerful emotions.

Have you ever looked at a two year old and sensed great fear?

I don’t sense great fear looking at that baby face.

But The Passionate Two Year Old is very capable of having powerful emotions (like: laying face down on the floor and crying their sweet little eyes out).

They cry big but the laugh big and love big too.

The Passionate Two Year Old is learning to express what they want.

Instead of a “grown up” nonchalant eye roll or deep sigh, twos only know how to lay on the floor and cry.

And I don’t blame them either. A two year old does not yet have the social cues to know that it is unacceptable to lay on the floor and cry and a two year old has not quite learned how to deal with disappointment because they have experienced very few disappointing circumstances in their short seven hundred and thirtyish days of living.

Really, since birth a two year old has (pretty much) gotten what they needed when they needed it.

Diaper changes, food, sleep and playtime and then when their little brains start thinking in their own way and hear the word “no” we as adults have decided to call the The Passionate Two Year Old, being dominated by intense emotion, terrible or dreadful.

Why do we do that? And why do we then feel like we are important enough to turn around and let younger moms know “what is coming.”

How could this be terrible?

How could someone who wants to “be cozy with you” be terrible?

How could someone who builds a tall tower for the first time and says, “I did it mommy” be terrible?

Two year olds go through so much change and we should give them more credit. Their ability to speak and reason change dramatically in their second year and most two year olds change to a toddler bed, get a new sibling, give up their pacifiers and learn how to use the potty in the year of two.

That is an enormous amount of change for a little one.

As adults we ask two year olds to cope with so much and then gasp when they express intense emotion.

I think two year olds are pretty amazing.

Curious.

And sweet.

But just because they are passionate does not make them terrible at all.

If you are expecting, have an infant or a one year old please know what is coming next is not terrible, dreadful or a year of intense fear.

The year of two is teaching your precious, sweet, curious child to deal with their intense emotions they are experiencing for the first time like disappointment, jealousy, envy and loss. (I honestly know many adults well into their thirties who don’t handle any of those emotions very well yet.)

The year of two is filled with some of the best story times, longest snuggles, I love you mommys, first sweet thankful prayers, bear hugs, imaginative play and curiosity that cannot be harnessed.

Advocate for your Passionate Two Year Old and stop saying “Terrible Twos!”

Sheesh, two year olds are not terrible at all.

Happy Birthday Sweet Asher, your passion, sweetness and curiosity have inspired this post and made me a better mommy.

You may also like:

Hurry http://onewiththepastor.com/2013/07/01/hurry/

The Cape http://onewiththepastor.com/2013/03/04/the-cape/

Searching For Snow http://onewiththepastor.com/2013/03/02/searching-for-snow/

Most of the time I am really full of myself and I have my superhero moments:

I am a mom, I am a woman, I can take it all on.

Today was one of those days. I am on two different antibiotics and three over the counters but hey, the show must go on. My boys have their first swimming lessons and I am not going to let my wimpy immune system get in the way.

I tie the cape around my neck and head out the door.

As always, I am squeaking into the community center parking lot right on time. Not a minute to spare. I like the drama of cutting it close.

We prayed and prayed for a parking spot. I saw some tail lights come on but another aggressive mom swooped in with a suburban, put her blinker on and gave me the evil eye.

Okay, you take the spot, I have my cape, bring it on.

I pull onto the curb and unload. It is raining and 40 degrees and my two year old lays down on the curb and cries, he wants me to hold him.

In cape mode I pull him along tears and all.

I literally pushed my toddler in with my foot as I was holding the heavy door with one hand and holding my baby in the other.

I am so consumed with myself, my cape and my ability to do it all despite my kryptonite illness; I hand my traumatized toddler to the girls in childcare and swoop onto swimming lessons.

The cape has covered up my ability to see the damage I am actually causing.

My oldest got to his lesson and I had to quickly head back out to the parking lot to legally park in a space. On my way back to the gym my heart was heavy.

As I slowed down the tie around my neck from the cape started to come undone.

My poor toddler. How traumatic to be frantically dragged into the childcare at the community center?

With the cape off I took the time to stop in and scoop up the sweet boy.

With the cape off I could see my need for repentance; to say I am sorry for kicking him through the door and into the arms of strangers.

In light of eternity, taking a minute to console my toddler is much more kingdom worthy than being punctual for a swimming lesson.

Finally poolside and I finally caught my oldest son’s eyes in the chaos of this morning.

He was sobbing.

With the superhero cape on and all the swooping, I officially damaged two of my children.

In my attempts to be a superhero I actually failed both the children I was trying to impress by getting them to their lesson on time.

My oldest left the pool and clung to me. Through his sobs he said, “Mommy, you left me and I couldn’t see you. I was scared.”

I did leave him. It was my fault. With the cape on I couldn’t see the effects of my superhero behavior. The cape was covering up the damage I was actually causing.

In light of eternity, being punctual for swimming lessons is not that important.

Sometimes when our intentions are good, when as moms we are trying to do what we think is the right thing for our kids, we actually hurt them in the process.

I was a disaster to my boys this morning all for the sake of swooping into a swimming lesson on time.

My superhero intentions were harmful.

The real superhero moments happened when I removed the cape. When I forgot about saving the day I was able to find that my kryptonite was actually inside of me.

“His power is made perfect in weakness. His grace is sufficient for me.”

The superhero moments of the gospel are the opportunities to cling to the fact that His grace is sufficient.

I am weak. I can’t hide behind the cape. God does not expect that of me.

When I untie the cape I can see His grace is sufficient for me.