I will not miss my Littles, being little.

I started this post while holding both my Littles as they finished their nap while laying on me. One of my arms is numb and the other can barely swipe the keyboard.

It has been three and a half years of putting my life on hold, every day, to ensure they get the rest they need. It has been over 183 weeks of tiptoeing quietly, watching television on mute, scarfing down food too quickly to taste it, and listening to Babyface over and over, and over, again. It has been over 1,300 days of people simultaneously blaming me because they don’t sleep unassisted and never offering anything but their criticism. I have spent hours and hours as a human pillow.

I will not miss this.

But if I tell another mother how difficult this stage is, most will say some unnecessary tidbit on how, “I better soak it up because they grow so fast.” How hard can I roll my eyes? Look, enjoying watching my children grow does not change that caring for them twenty-four hours, seven days a week as babies and toddlers is the most physically and mentally draining thing I have ever done. Therefore, going forward I am just going to tell them straight out, “nah Fam, I will not miss my body being ground zero for everything, all the time.” My honesty regarding that should be respected, not countered. I know for a fact, if the duration of parenthood required the detail that early life does, there would be a lot less children.

Because reminiscing is a lot different that wanting to return to that time. None of ya’ll really want to go back to this stage. Most of ya’ll barely made it the first time.

Will I miss their cute little voices? Absolutely. Will I miss their inability to wipe their own butts? Pass. Watching them light up when they learn something new, sure. Them falling out because they wanted cheddar bunnies instead of cheddar crackers, hard pass. See, the benefit of being distanced from these years is they’re able to be selective with what they choose to highlight in their memory reel. They can giggle about the sleepless nights without feeling its effect the next morning. They can laugh about the times their tot screamed and whined nonstop in the grocery store without now needing the milk they left behind during the rush to get them out the store.

A word of advice if you are one of these people: while you’re remembering and appreciating the result of all that effort in your own children, don’t forget all the work that went into the equation. The days that felt impossible, the weeks that felt endless, the months without a break, the years with no rest. Don’t forget the days that you wished they needed you a little less, because you now wish they needed you a little more.

I know if I tell those same mothers that my husband and I have not had eight hours together to sleep alone, in the same bed, in almost four years, they will also probably say, “I don’t miss that part.” Guess what? That part is “a part” of this stage. So, unless “missing them this age” includes not having a babysitter for a date night, random sand everywhere, Legos flushed down the toilet, running like Flo-Jo to prevent them from jumping off a six foot play structure, and that weird smell in the car –seriously what snack died in here—then leave me be. Leave all of us toddler parents alone! Nod your head in understanding solidarity. Smile with sincerity. Give us a moment to exhale in our truth. But do not, please stop, telling us this is the climax of joy when it comes to parenthood.

While discussing my frustration with toddler Mom shaming, a friend told me I need to have grace when dealing with people who are emotionally tied to experiences that they will never have the opportunity to repeat. That I should also take into consideration you have been where I am, and I have not been where you are. I can do that. My request is that grace is returned.

Remember, you were where I am. Support parents in this phase without discounting what they are going through. Encourage us with your success in transitioning through different phases, not warning us that there is no light of relief at the end of the tunnel. I love being a Momma, even when it isn’t easy. I appreciate the moments of perfection amongst the chaos I feel within myself. But I shouldn’t have to always look backward for the best moments. I should be allowed to believe that better days are on the horizon without anyone trying to convince me that this is as good as it gets. Because when I say I am not going to miss this, as much as I am proud of the parent I am, I mean it. I have had to table my wants in so many ways to ensure I am meeting the needs of my Littles, honestly, I miss myself. And if anyone can understand that, it should be you.

Also, my daughter told me I was her best friend today. It made me tear up. I know one day she may not feel this way and that stage will be a different challenge. Will I post about how much I wish she was little and had no other options for her BFF? Maybe. Or I’ll take a nap, without her, and remember there are always better days ahead.