Explaining my journey with my oldest child feels like an uphill battle. Even using the word “battle” makes me feel a twinge of guilt because he’s everything I ever dreamed of in a son. I know I’m fortunate to call him mine. He’s a delightful whirlwind of energy, zipping around our home, filling our days with laughter, chaos, and the occasional shattered lamp.
But let’s be real: sometimes, his unbridled spirit leaves me utterly spent—bone-tired. I find myself in constant clashes with his iron will, like a tug-of-war that lasts until dusk, leaving me feeling like a worn-out sock. No amount of activities seem to dim his fiery light. Getting that kid to bed is a spectacle akin to trying to bathe a cat. It’s a pay-per-view event every night. He’s just not ready to call it a day.
And here’s the kicker: I can’t seem to master the art of discipline with this little dynamo. When I’m firm, it backfires spectacularly. When I give him a bit of freedom, he races six miles ahead. He’s all scraped knees and loud voices, zooming through life at 90 miles per hour, while I’m trailing behind, panting, and yelling for the 50th time, “Get down from there right now!”
Our interactions often feel like a cacophony of frustration. I set a limit; he bulldozes through it. It’s a relentless power struggle, and if I’m honest, he’s usually the one coming out on top. I feel like the frayed rope of a tire swing, and he’s soaring higher and higher, and it’s terrifying to think I might just snap.
How do I keep parenting in this atmosphere, where everything feels like a tiny act of defiance? What happens when my last reserve of patience spills out of the cup I’m desperately trying to balance?
Just yesterday morning, I found myself praying for guidance, asking God to help me love this child well. I begged for wisdom to bridge the gap between the chaos and calm, the frenzy and the peace.
Later that evening, as I was flipping through photos from our recent vacation, I stumbled upon a gem: My boy. My spirited child, frolicking in the waves with the energy of a thousand suns. He is Prince Leo. Our world is where the wild things are, and from the moment he entered my life, the royal rumpus began.
Staring at that fiery spirit frozen in a snapshot, I felt a gentle nudge in my heart—an answer to my morning plea. You see those ocean waves? They are both magnificent and untamed. They dance, crash, and roar, and from the shore, it might appear chaotic. Yet, there’s a subtle force at work. From afar, a gentle influence is constantly guiding, shaping order amid the tumult—the moon and the ocean. The push and the pull. A mother and her son.
In that one image, I realized my role: to be present. Calm and steady. To navigate the chaos without trying to tame it, gently guiding it into some semblance of order. Parents, we will never completely tame the sea, so let’s cut ourselves and our spirited kiddos some slack. There is a place for both the calm and the wild in this world, and both have their purpose.
Today, I’m taking a step back. I will let the waves crash and embrace the incredible beauty in my wild-hearted child. Will you join me in this journey?
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Summary:
Parenting a spirited child can be an exhausting yet beautiful experience. While navigating the challenges of discipline and energy management, it’s essential to embrace the wildness and chaos that comes with raising such a vibrant personality. Recognizing the balance between calm and chaos can lead to a more rewarding parenting journey.