It was a quiet Sunday evening, and I found myself at home alone with my energetic 3-year-old daughter, Lily, who can only be described as a little whirlwind. My partner was busy with a project, and our older kids were spending time with their grandparents. My sole responsibility was to get Lily settled down for bed, which, believe me, is akin to trying to calm a caffeinated squirrel.
The evening kicked off with Lily enthusiastically pushing her remaining dinner onto the floor. My initial plan was to tidy up before transitioning her to bedtime, but the immediate mess demanded attention. As I cleaned up, she decided to empty her dresser drawers. I managed to regain some semblance of order by putting on a movie and crafting a makeshift bed on the floor (because apparently, floor beds are the pinnacle of toddler comfort). Despite her initial interest in “Peppa Pig,” she remained restless and full of mischief.
Ultimately, it was my presence beside her that prompted her to calm down. Each time she attempted to sit up, I gently nudged her back down, whispering “time for sleep.” This became a playful game for her, and after what felt like an eternity, she finally started to doze off.
As I lay there next to my bright-eyed little girl, I felt something odd — a strawberry lodged in my pants. Yes, a strawberry. Not entirely sure how it ended up there, but I was certain I didn’t put it there. With only Lily around, she had clearly pulled off a stealthy ninja move.
As she stirred, I took a moment, trying to remove the remnants of the fruit while grappling with the unique exhaustion that only comes from parenting an adventurous child. I’m sure any parent of a spirited child knows the kind of fatigue that seeps into your bones after a day of chasing around an endlessly curious, high-energy little one. Our older kids were quite active, but Lily is on another level entirely.
A joke circulating in our home is that if Lily had been our firstborn, she would have been our last. Yet, as I lay beside her, I reflected on the profound love I have for her. Her laughter warms my heart, and I started to consider everything I’ve learned about myself through the experience of raising her.
Much of it was apparent. I realized I possess greater stamina at 35 than I did at 25. My reflexes have sharpened as I try to prevent this little climber from taking a tumble. Patience has become a newfound virtue, especially after she managed to break two laptops, toss her grandmother’s phone into the toilet, and shatter a tablet with a kaleidoscope—talk about impressive destruction. I’ve also built upper body strength from dressing her countless times a day, as she seems to prefer the nudist lifestyle.
I’ve learned to find humor in situations I once thought impossible to laugh about. Just last week, Lily scratched an itch and then cheekily approached me during dinner, sticking her hand in my mouth. Yes, that really happened. Sometimes, the only way to cope with a wild child is to laugh. If you don’t, you might just end up in tears. Laughter has become my survival tool in the chaos of parenting.
Thanks to Lily, I’ve developed a knack for finding humor in life’s challenges, whether they arise at work, with family, or beyond. In our household, volume levels are always cranked up; everything Lily does is turned up to eleven, making other stresses seem trivial.
My partner and I have also improved our teamwork. We’ve learned to share responsibilities more effectively, often anticipating when one of us needs to step in without needing to say a word. There are moments when the chaos escalates, and we instinctively know one of us needs to take action.
I’ll openly admit that parenting a high-needs child can strain our relationship. There are times when I call home, and my partner sounds overwhelmed, making me wonder if the house will be standing when I return. For a long time, I thought I needed to fix everything. But the truth is, nothing will change this spirited 3-year-old except time and two dedicated parents focused on guiding her into becoming a kind, capable adult without dimming her vibrant spirit.
So, instead of jumping to conclusions, I’ve learned the importance of simply listening. I make space for my partner to vent her frustrations. Once she expresses her feelings, I can almost hear the weight lift off her shoulders. Sometimes, venting is all it takes to make things feel better.
Finally, as the wild one settled into a peaceful sleep on the floor, I stood up, changed into strawberry-free pants, and carefully carried her to bed. As I tucked her in, she stirred slightly, and I couldn’t help but smile, thinking about her adventurous spirit even in her dreams. I covered her with a blanket, kissed her soft head, and quietly closed the door, anticipating what tomorrow might bring and what new lessons I would learn from my amazing, wild child.
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Summary:
Parenting a spirited child brings unique challenges and profound joy. Through the chaos, I’ve discovered endurance, patience, and a new appreciation for humor. The journey of raising my wild daughter, Lily, has taught me invaluable lessons about love, teamwork, and the importance of listening. Embracing these experiences allows me to navigate the ups and downs of parenthood with laughter and grace.