Updated: July 17, 2016
Originally Published: July 18, 2015
I’m tired. Not just your typical fatigue, but that deep exhaustion that comes from nurturing another human being. This isn’t the same kind of tired I felt when my little one was a toddler, relentlessly exploring every corner of life. While I certainly found potty training to be challenging and sometimes embarrassing, I always held onto the hope that one day she’d handle it all on her own.
Now, however, my fatigue stems from different sources. I feel guilty even admitting that I’m tired, especially since my daughter is now a tween, eagerly counting down the days until she reaches her teenage years. She’s grown so independent—dressing and bathing herself, and the idea of snuggling up with me in bed at night is something she’d find unsettling. She not only knows how to feed herself but can also whip up a meal when needed.
Yet, this exhaustion is not merely about late-night pick-ups or early morning drives to weekend activities. It’s a deeper, emotional fatigue rooted in the complexities of today’s world. Concerns about domestic violence, sexting, and drug use are now realities for kids her age, and they occur right in her school. I’m not just answering endless questions like I did when she was younger; I’m grappling with the weight of unspoken fears and the realities that I can’t shield her from.
Every mom wants to create a perfect world for her children, yet we eventually reach a point where we realize that’s impossible. Even if I had the means to fix everything, I know I shouldn’t. The act of simply holding back my words can be exhausting in itself.
When my daughter feels deeply, it’s hard for me not to feel that intensity as well. I know it’s my role as a parent to maintain a level head and not get swept away by the drama of tween life, but witnessing her navigate these challenges is anything but easy. I strive to be the calm presence, yet my tranquility often seems to confirm her feelings that I can’t possibly understand what she’s going through.
On her 12th birthday, I was hit with the realization that my time with her as a child was already two-thirds over. The thought of that pie chart was a shocking wake-up call. It brought a new urgency to our remaining years together (if the universe allows it). There’s so much she still needs to learn, and I want to share so many experiences with her, even though I know that spending time with parents isn’t exactly at the top of her agenda. I often wish I could go back and correct the mistakes I’ve made in her upbringing, not for my sake, but for hers.
I know I’m fortunate. I’m truly privileged to be an exhausted mom of a not-so-little girl. I feel incredibly lucky to witness the ups and downs that come with adolescence. I’ve heard from other parents that the teenage years can leave you feeling even more drained.
I recall a wise coworker telling me during my pregnancy, “You’ll never sleep the same way again,” before walking away. How right he was. Now I truly understand his exhaustion, as the saying goes: the bigger the kids, the bigger the problems. I can only hope that as she grows, some of the worries will ease. As Toni Morrison beautifully put it, “Grown don’t mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown? What’s that supposed to mean? In my heart it don’t mean a thing.”
For more insights on parenting and the journey through pregnancy, you might want to check out this post on intracervical insemination. And if you’re looking for reliable information on home insemination, the CDC is an excellent resource.
Summary:
This article reflects on the unique challenges and emotional exhaustion of parenting a tween. It emphasizes the shift from physical tiredness experienced during early childhood to the deeper, more complex fatigue that comes with navigating adolescence. The author recognizes the beauty and privilege of this stage while grappling with the worries and responsibilities that accompany it.