The kids were up at 5am this morning, that’s par for the course at the moment, and I’ve gotta be honest it’s wearing thin. The kids are tired. The parents are tired. We’re all a little bit stabby.

This is not me having a whinge (well it is a little bit but that’s not the main gist of the piece) it’s just therapeutic for me to write this stuff down. I write words much more easily than I say them out loud. It gives me a chance to mull over my thoughts, to extract moments I want to reflect on.

I’m having a bit of a hard time with the three-year-old. It’s probably just normal three-year-old boy stuff: not listening well, being too rough, throwing wobblies over minor things, speaking rudely to people. I know that’s probably all very standard behaviour, but throw in some tiredness from both parents and child, and it’s all been a bit yuck.

This afternoon at my mum’s house he was being particularly unruly, he was overexcited and overtired and I should have just taken him straight home. But I didn’t, because the truth is I was enjoying the change of scenery. When we did finally leave after a couple of hours, I burst into tears on the drive home, much to the astonishment of the kids. I mean really, it was a bit ridiculous even for me. I promise I don’t actually cry all of the time, I think the last time I cried nonsensically was when I last wrote about it on here. Non-criers are going to think I’m mad, and I can sit here now too, with the kids tucked peacefully in their beds, and feel a bit crazy about it too. But I’m not embarrassed, I’m a crier.

The thing is, being a parent is so intense, particularly with your first child. You want the easiest path for your child. You want them to build enough self esteem and resilience that they will ride out the inevitable bumps of life. You want to tool them up with the social skills they need to make friends and positive connections with the world.

Instead, I feel like I’m spending my days telling him lots of things he’s doing wrong and not enough time teaching him what he should be doing instead. It’s not working particularly well. In social situations he can be Mr Bombastic but I can tell he doesn’t quite know where he fits, his response is to get louder and faster and rougher. He’s begging for guidance but I’m not sure exactly how to give it.

He’s only three. I keep reminding myself, he’s only three. Such a big baby, like a labrador puppy – so loving and beautiful, and destructive.

I am of course fiercely protective of him, so have found myself avoiding large gatherings where I know it will be harder for him, preferring the warmth of close friends, or little road trips as a family.  Which actually made me stop and think about how isolating it must be for parents of children with challenging behaviour or special needs. My child is three, he is still in the ‘acceptable range’ when it comes to toddler behaviour. But what about the children with ADHD, or those on the autism spectrum? Or those children who simply don’t fit the mould that others might expect? I imagine the world could be a lonely place for their parents, wanting as we all do to see our child thrive, but being terrified that they will be torn down by the looks and comments of others. Another reminder to offer smiles not judgement I suppose.

Anyway, our kids were nearly falling asleep at the dinner table and have been sleeping soundly for a good hour, so after writing this and having a bit of time to myself, I feel a lot more relaxed about it all. I know parenting, like childing, is a slow game. Thank goodness.

Eliza xx