Exciting News: You’re Not Angry Anymore!

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Hey there, Me from Four Years Ago,

I have to say, you look a bit worn out. There’s a flicker of frustration bubbling beneath that exhausted exterior. Yep, there it is—those moments of rage that erupt every time your toddler decides to unleash a surprise in his pants just moments after you asked him to use the potty.

After all, one kid is two, and the other is just a baby, right? What a circus act! Potty training one while nursing the other is like juggling flaming torches. And let’s not even talk about getting home from work—everyone’s cranky after a long day at daycare, and they’re all right under your feet, making it impossible to whip up a meal without a mini disaster waiting to happen.

Ah, the good old days of being so needed that you could burst! You can’t even sneak off to the bathroom in peace, and sleep? Forget about it.

I remember that life vividly. And that charming haircut you have—oh wait, it’s not really a haircut because you haven’t blow-dried it in ages and you last went to the salon in 2012. And those comfy dark clothes? Perfect for hiding all the spills and stains (and joy) because it’s hard to ruin the color of chaos.

No, don’t be ridiculous! You look just fine—well, as fine as you’ll continue to feel for the next few years.

Of course, you adore your kids; they overwhelm you with emotion at every little milestone. They’re delightful and hilarious, and they love you unconditionally. But let’s be real—you’re also just angry. Angry that you can’t have a moment to yourself, that you work full-time just to cover daycare costs, and that your patience is wearing thin. The older one creeps into your bed at night, and you have to bring the baby’s bouncy seat to the bathroom to keep him from wailing while you take a quick break. You pump in the car at work and spend precious hours cleaning pump parts after the kids are finally in bed. That “sour hour” is the only quality time you get with them on weeknights, and it feels like you’re constantly waking up just as you yearn to sleep.

Trust me; I remember it all too well. It wasn’t that long ago. I know you’re mad.

What? You think you’re not? Maybe you’re too depleted to notice it now, but let’s be honest—you are.

Why wouldn’t you be? Everything has changed. It’s exhilarating and empowering but also terrifying and exhausting. You’re always on call, and the demands for your love and energy are relentless, with new obstacles popping up every day.

It’s tough. And maybe you’re not ready to accept your anger just yet. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now, and it’s easier to keep pushing through.

But here’s the silver lining: four years from now, you’ll look back and realize just how angry you were because, suddenly, you’re not. It’s incredible.

It doesn’t happen all at once, mind you. There’s a whole awakening period where you come to terms with the fact that working isn’t working, leading you to make the bold choice to quit your job and stay home with the kids full-time.

I know—it can feel like a nightmare some days. But guess what? It’s worth it. Before you know it, one child is in first grade, and the other is in half-day preschool. You’ll start to ease back into work, one client at a time.

And oh, they sleep now—almost every night! Except, of course, for those delightful full moons, fevers, or random bouts of bedwetting. But for the most part, you actually get to catch some Z’s. Sometimes you can even sleep in until 8:00 on weekends if the boys are preoccupied with the iPad and not yelling like they’re at a rock concert.

Oh, and did I mention they both talk now? In full sentences—and they’re loud! But the best part? They actually enjoy each other’s company. They can play together, watch movies, and even hang out with neighbors in the yard without needing you to referee every little squabble.

Sure, you still need to step in when their “brotherly love” goes off the rails or when one of them decides the office chair from the garage is a racing vehicle. And yes, they’ll ask you to play board games or snuggle on the couch, or share their elaborate, made-up video game scenarios.

But you can also work out again for whole half-hours while they chill with Dad—without any major meltdowns because Mommy has left the room.

And you feel good about your time away from them. They have friends at school now, and babysitters you trust to handle their antics.

The clouds have finally parted. You’re gradually reclaiming bits of freedom that feel indulgent after the long drought of “me time.” You feel…good. Good enough to recognize how furious you once were because you’re no longer mad.

So, see? Everything is going to be okay. Your life will never return to what it was, but where you’ll be in four years is pretty fantastic. It’s a billion times better than what you’re dealing with now.

Hang in there, Me from Four Years Ago. We’ll cross paths again sooner than you think.

But for now, I must dash. Future Me is trying to reach me about something related to teenage drama…? Ugh, I should just savor this phase while it lasts.

You too, Former Me. You too.

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Summary:

In this heartfelt letter to her past self, the author reflects on the chaos and anger of parenting young children, highlighting the overwhelming demands and constant challenges of motherhood. She reassures her former self that in four years, life will improve significantly, with newfound joys and freedoms emerging as the children grow. The message is one of hope and resilience, emphasizing that while life changes dramatically, the future holds brighter days.