Photo by lmnop88a
Yesterday my girls came home after spending four days with their dad. Sometimes these transitions are seamless, and other times I end up feeling emotionally spent within an hour of their arrival. Yesterday was one of those exhausting days.
First, one of my daughters bombarded me with a dozen things she wanted me to help her do. The list included everything from crafty Christmas projects she needed a hand with and a shelf she wanted installed in her room to ways to soothe her achy tooth. She was back in her other environment, and her mind was racing with possibilities as she readjusted.
Then my other daughter needed to pour out all the sadness of her heart to me. ALL of it. It was as if her heart was a cup that she had been slowly filling until it reached the brim. Then she had spent the last couple of days carrying it around very carefully, attentive not to spill a drop. Now that she was home with me, she couldn’t bear to carry it another step. Out it poured.
My stepdaughter, who also returned to our house yesterday, is dealing with her own stresses as she wraps up semester projects and prepares for finals at her rigorous school.
The house was emotionally packed.
What is “x” in those tricky parenting equations?
Earlier in the day, before all of the drama, we were out for lunch with friends. I told B, who has an 18-month-old son, about our weekend dinner guests, who have twin toddler boys. “Can you imagine having twins?” We began speculating whether twins are twice the work as one child (twice as many diapers), three times the work (they’re in cahoots), or maybe 50 percent more work (if you’re giving one bath you might as well give two). No one at the table had real experience with twins, so we left it at that.
Last night, though, I had a realization. I had just folded stacks of laundry and then realized at 11 that I still needed to make lunches. When I finally climbed into bed, I recognized that my exhaustion was far more emotional than physical. And this was suddenly very clear: The work of parenting more than one child (at least once they hit school age) has very little to do with their physical needs. It’s not about “triple the laundry” or “three breakfasts and lunches to make instead of one.” Making three sandwiches, after all, is not three times the work of making one.
No, it’s not that we have three extra bodies in the house to care for. We have three additional hearts and minds to care for. And they’re each in need of completely different things, at different times. We can’t line them all up and assure them everything will be OK in the same way we can line them up and trim their toenails. Their needs are each so unique—they require specialized, individual attention, and sometimes we even have to try experimental, unproven approaches. What has worked for one daughter won’t necessarily work for all.
Sometimes, it almost feels like a full-time-job—one that requires a daily nap (of the parents, not the kids!). But it also feels like the most worthwhile job there is, and it’s good to know that others are out there devoting themselves to it, too. Sometimes just acknowledging that something is hard, and knowing you’re not alone, makes it all less of a struggle and more of a joy.
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{ 11 comments… read them below or add one }
Kristin, this is so insightful. Of course my kids are no where near schoolage, but I feel the tear of being attentive to both very their hearts very acutely.
I’m taking a guess here, but it may also be that you’re parenting three different versions of your daughters. I’m not sure about the interaction between children and parents in a house where both parents live together, but from my experience, it wasn’t just readjustment to Parent A’s house (although that was a factor). It was also about the fact that I needed different things from Parent A than I did from Parent B.
Your caring for your daughters’ hearts and minds may be different from the parenting they get from their other parent (and that’s okay – we need different things from different people) and that can sometimes contribute to exhaustion.
But again – I’m just guessing.
As usual, what an insightful post, Kristin. It really is about more than just making sure they’re clothed and fed, isn’t it? I really do look forward to the day where I have that sort of emotional communication with my child. Right now, it’s still a lot of guessing. I wonder, do you think it would be different with a houseful of boys? Not that boys are not emotional, not by any stretch of the imagination, but their emotional energy can be different.
And you know, it’s a good thing – the physical taking care-of aspects of parenting waning while the emotional shepherding waxes. This is one of those posts that I know I will think of when I am at that future point!
taking care of the emotional needs can be emotionaly and physically exhausting too…. being ‘there’ for my daughter, yet having her choose not to talk to me is so devastating too…. I am glad you can experience your daughter spilling all over you, as I am wishing I had that right now… the upside, or so I keep telling myself – is she is at least talking to professionals, hard as that is to accept. At any rate, we will all come out on the bright side eventually, and somethings parents just can’t solve – as tough as that is to admit.
… didnt mean to hijack your post with all the ‘me’ stuff, but really needed to feel like I wasnt alone tonight in the rewarding, magical, if trying world of parenting – your timing impeccable – thank you.
“additional hearts and minds to care for” <– Yep, they’ll find food (or even soap) when they need it, but the kiss on the forehead, listening ear, and reassuring, “yep, you’re doing alright” hug gotta come somewhere between getting some laundry done and picking up everything on the floor. If my priorities are lined up, kicking the paper *toward* the trashcan can be good enough.
Oh, and I love how they support and reach out to each other when I’m not available.
Laura, I remember when this realization began to dawn on me. It had a lot to do with the moment I saw how completely different my two girls are. I don’t know why I expected otherwise—maybe because they’re both girls? But anyway, it was very eye-opening when I began to recognize their differences and see how they would need different things from me.
Meredith, you’re probably right (not that I needed another complexity to consider!). Sometimes I ask the girls about life at their dad’s house—just simple things like how they get along with each other (as sisters) there, and if they deal with some of the same issues. But I agree, it’s OK for them to need and get different things from the different people they love.
Sam, that’s a good question—a house full of boys. Hmmm. I can’t even imagine it. In some ways it might be easier because they’re not as emotional in general, but in other ways that might mean there’s lots more guessing. I kind of prefer the “pouring it all out” style, even if it’s emotionally wrenching in the moment.
Trina, I’m so sorry it’s a tough parenting time for you, but I’m glad you don’t feel alone, and am so glad you opened up here. That helps all of us. You didn’t “hijack” the post at all! The post isn’t supposed to be about me, after all, it’s supposed to be about all of us who experience “the rewarding, magical, if trying world of parenting.”
Dave, you have a houseful of hearts and minds needing your care, don’t you? Do you have any strategies to share with the rest of us? Or any insights about boys vs girls? I’m glad you pointed out getting priorities lined up—I’m daily trying to find that balance—and I love that your kids support each other, too. That’s a sure sign that you are modeling much more than an orderly house.
I can most relate with your comment about parenting (older children) is more emotionally exhausting vs. physically. Although our three children are all under 5 years old (and a 4th on the way) I speculate, from a father’s perspective that we have experienced more emotional stress than physical already. We are exhausted daily and particularly when the kids come back from an over-night at a grandparents house. We simply do the best we can.
Kristin, you know how you’re supposed to love your kids? I’m pretty darn lucky because I like them too. Liking them makes it easy to talk to them as (well) people. In one of her books, Barbara Kingsolver once wrote a line for her main character (a parent (who happened to be female)) “Please don’t talk to my [4 year old] daughter like she’s a toddler. She’s a human being and she will understand if you talk to her like any other human.”
Although I am far from perfect implementation, that line has stuck with me from way before I had people carrying my genes.
Oh, and don’t get me wrong . . . I too can’t stand dishes in the sink at 6am.
Dave P, you and your wife clearly have your hands full! And I’m sure you can already see different personalities and needs at work in your kids, even at their young age. I wonder how much our exhaustion, as parents, is affected by our own personalities, too—not just the kids. For instance, do some parents just naturally focus more on their kids emotional needs, which makes them more emotionally worn out?
Dave T, yes, listening and talking to our kids like they’re the real people they are is so important. This past decade, I’ve learned a lot about feelings. For instance, that feelings are neither right nor wrong—they don’t need to be justified or even reasoned with, they just need to be heard out. As a mom, I’ve learned to try to focus on listening and asking questions, rather than on solving every single problem. It seems to be a good approach for everyone involved.
You are so right, Kristin–with older kids it’s not the physical work that’s so challenging, it’s the listening, and knowing the right thing to say (or hoping to God you at least don’t say the REALLY WRONG THING). I have one son, 12, who would literally get home and talk to me all day long. Like, I think he’d follow me into the bathroom if I let him. He is one question and story and vent after another. He has a way of sucking up all the energy in the room–it’s like he’s a bundle of open nerves and just has to question, question, question, and talk, talk, talk. I understand him, because I think I was also that way. But I find it exhausting.
But one thing I’ve also noticed about having more kids, that’s GREAT? It doesn’t have to be all me, all the time. Sure, my husband and I still do the parenting, and the majority of the emotional hand-holding and coaching. But my son has brothers to talk to and there are always other people in the house to soak up a little of that nervous energy. Sometimes I have to rescue my second-oldest son, who isn’t nearly as talkative and craves alone time and appears to be drowning in his brother’s talk talk talk. But most of the time, they figure out a way to work around each other and get their needs met. It’s pretty cool to watch, really–and it takes at least some of the pressure off of me.