Kidlash: When the Ups and Downs of Parenting Challenge Your Sanity

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Last week, my toddler surprised me by sleeping soundly for three nights straight. Feeling recharged, I picked up my 6- and 4-year-olds from school and, channeling my inner cheerleader, exclaimed, “We’re going to the beeeeeach!” (You get a beach trip! And you get a beach trip!) The next day, I took my middle child, who craved some extra attention, on an exciting tour of the Mrs. Roberts’ sticker factory. I even managed to cook for a preschool work shift, support a close friend, and attend a dazzling world premiere at the San Francisco Ballet. “Because,” I joyfully shared on social media, “it seems that after 20 months post-baby number three, we’re finally getting our life back!”

But upon returning home, we were met with a different scenario: our little one was starring in “I can’t breathe through my nose.” That night was a struggle, with sleep coming in 20-minute intervals, leaving me feeling as if I’d pulled an all-nighter at a wild party.

The next morning, I found myself on the phone trying to resolve our property taxes. Just as I hung up, my 4-year-old hopped onto my bed, declared “read and cuddle now, Mama,” and tossed my beige decorative pillows into a puddle of black paint on the floor.

Ah, that explains his silence during the call, I thought, as tears began to form. I rushed to the bathroom to let them flow, while my son’s cries of “I’m sorry, Mommy!” echoed behind me. Sleep deprivation played a significant role in my emotional response. The looming threat of a $1,000 penalty didn’t help either, especially when I’ve been pinching pennies and even resorted to buying my least favorite mayo brand to save $1.37. Guilt washed over me too—I wanted to embrace my little boy and enjoy the joy that my undivided attention brings, but I also felt the pressure to get things done.

More than anything, I attribute my emotional rollercoaster to the sudden drop from feeling like a supermom—accomplished and engaged with my kids—to a reality check that’s hard to swallow. It’s like whiplash: one moment, I’m soaring high, and the next, I’m abruptly grounded. I call this phenomenon “kidlash.”

Snapshots of Parenting Highs and Lows

Over the years, I’ve collected snapshots of my parenting highs and lows:

• High: The baby stood for the first time at breakfast, prompting cheers from her siblings.
• Low: My son, upset that I had to leave to pick up his sick sister, looked me straight in the eye and said, “You are trash.” Ouch.
• High: My husband took the kids to the park, giving me ample time to enjoy a long soak in the tub. When they returned, I was greeted with the delightful offer of a “spa day” from my oldest, who even joined me in the bath for some creative play.
• Low: At bedtime, she wouldn’t stop talking, waking her siblings with questions about chimpanzees and her desire for a book about hermit crabs. Frustrated and eager to watch my show, I snapped at her, wiping the smile off her face.
• High: My son, feeling under the weather, cuddled up beside me.
• Low: Despite my initial delight in his cuddles, I was secretly relieved he was too sick to move.
• High: I completed paying the bills and enjoyed a sweet moment as my son serenaded me with a song about “five little bunnies in a bakery shop.” We even had fun making bunny-shaped snacks.
• Low: Later that day, he started hurling insults at his sister, and in a fit of rage, I grabbed his face to get him to look at me. “You are mean,” he shouted. “You’re the worst mommy, and I won’t come to your birthday party, even if there’s yellow cake!”

These rapid mood swings are exhausting, but the monthly and yearly shifts are what really take a toll. While sitting in the dark, holding my husband’s hand as classical music played and athletes performed gracefully on stage, I thought we were finally emerging from the postpartum fog. But then, a cold virus knocked us back into chaos, dimming the light we had just begun to see.

For six long years, this has been our reality. Yet, amidst the challenges, I’ve held onto one small victory. After years of training, my husband finally learned that throw pillows are decorative and must not be used to prop up heads or feet. Yes, he teased me endlessly about it—“So it’s like the food you put out at a party that I can’t eat because it’s too delicious?”—but he still dutifully placed my beloved pillows on a clean surface each night before bed.

I thought my pillows had survived the chaos, that a piece of me would emerge unscathed. So, I cried. But, in the end, I found solace in my son’s embrace and the magic of a good story.

If you’re interested in more stories like this, check out our other blog posts on home insemination and parenting tips at Intracervical Insemination. For those seeking additional resources, Resolve offers a wealth of information on family-building options, while Make a Mom is an authority on home insemination kits.

In summary, the rollercoaster of parenting is filled with dizzying highs and crushing lows, but through it all, the love and connection with our children shine through, reminding us of the beauty in the chaos.