I was not ready for motherhood. Sure, I thought I was prepared; we had planned, plotted, and anticipated our child’s arrival. Yet, the monumental shift from being child-free to holding a tiny human—one for whom I’m entirely responsible—upended my world in ways I never expected. It’s such a profound change that I believe nothing can genuinely prepare you for it.
No matter how much you plan, you’re never truly ready for parenthood until it happens. Once it does, you learn to navigate the chaos as you go along.
So, when I found out I was pregnant with my second child, I felt a bit more equipped. After all, two kids is more than one, but at least I had some experience this time around. I knew what to expect and was acutely aware of how I would struggle with the inevitable sleep deprivation. I thought I was ready for whatever my body had in store.
Then my daughter arrived. And, once again, I was blindsided.
The realization didn’t hit me immediately. We would chuckle at her expressive eyebrows as a newborn, and her little growls and monster sounds were a source of amusement. She exuded personality, and we loved to remark on it.
But the moment she became mobile, everything changed.
My daughter is a whirlwind—wild, untamed, and as fearless as they come. If my son were a candy, he’d be a marshmallow—soft and sweet, always up for a cuddle. But my daughter? She’s like a box of Pop Rocks that’s been recalled due to dangerous bits of metal.
I had nearly three years of calm with my son before he became a big brother. Those years were relatively smooth, filled with kindness, creativity, and the occasional bump from not paying attention. He loved to draw and build, and I could rely on a simple TV distraction to allow me a moment of peace.
In stark contrast, during the brief two years my daughter has been around, she has managed to escape her crib, slip out of the house unnoticed, and be found in someone else’s yard or wandering in the street. She has scaled the highest playground structures in a 20-mile radius, licked a plumber’s Crocs, and gotten her hands on anything sharp—from nail clippers to electric drills.
Every escapade feels like karma for my previously easygoing life with my son.
Days spent alone with my son were leisurely by comparison. If I needed a break, I could turn on the TV and let the flashing lights and sounds turn him into a cute little zombie for a while. A quick shower or lunch was possible without the constant worry of what he might be up to.
With my daughter, however, if I’m desperate enough to take a shower, I have to leave the door wide open to listen for any thuds or shrieks. Every few minutes, I call out for my son, asking him to check on her, only to hear that she’s either watching TV or, in some cases, coloring the screen.
You might have a child who presents challenges, with a normal level of rambunctiousness that leads to some embarrassing outbursts in public. But just when you think you’re managing, the universe might throw you a second child who manages to sever the lawnmower starter with wire cutters while you’re simply checking the mail.
This is precisely why wild children often come second. If they were the firstborns, many parents might stop at one.
There’s simply no training a spirited child. I’ve tried time-outs, removing toys, and endless conversation—only to discover that two-year-olds are not exactly receptive to discussions. Most of my efforts are met with either a furrowed brow or hysterical laughter as she bolts off in search of who-knows-what—likely a box cutter and some old batteries.
While I wouldn’t trade my daughter for anything, her fierce independence and boldness make me genuinely concerned for anyone who dares to cross her path later in life. I wouldn’t mind if she took a break once in a while. The exhaustion of parenting is real, but the mental fatigue stemming from trying to anticipate the moves of a tiny mastermind (yes, she’s advanced) makes me feel like I need a nap—one that she’d probably foil before I even hit the pillow.
So, yes. Nothing prepares you for a spirited child like this. You’ll never feel truly ready. You’ll love them fiercely, but you’ll also find yourself sleeping with one eye open for a long time. To learn more about getting ready for family life, check out this resource on home insemination options.
Summary
The transition to motherhood is unpredictable, especially when welcoming a spirited child. This blog reflects on the challenges and surprises of raising a wild child, contrasting the calmer experience of parenting a firstborn with the chaos brought by a second. Despite the difficulties, the love for these children remains unwavering.