A reflection on the (not so) "terrible" 2s.

As Miss H grows closer to 3 each day, I’ve been reflecting on the wonder of the 2s. Everyone prepares you that it’s “terrible.” And then during those moments of terrible, they taunt you that 3 is “treacherous” and so much worse, which just makes you want to cry and drink a bottle (or three) of wine.

But really, 2 is pretty awesome.

Don’t get me wrong, some of it was hard. Like to the max.

July, August, and September made me question all of my parenting. And that was a good thing. It made me change oh-so much, and the result was a much happier Momma, and more importantly, a much happier H. But it was hard.

But mostly 2 has just been awesome. The little H that turned 2 nearly a year ago, and the almost-3 year old H now has changed and grown and developed so much into her own person that sometimes all I can do is just stare in awe at what an amazing, well-spoken, empathetic, terribly compassionate, sweet, loving girl she is. She’s this whole person with lovely (and sometimes not so lovely) thoughts and feelings and she can communicate them all quite effectively.

 

She feels everything big. Her feelings and emotions are big. This, of course, means that her sad and angry emotions are big. And sometimes that’s challenging.

Challenging because it breaks my heart to see her sad no matter the reason. In November while visiting friends I very gently reprimanded her for crawling into a dog crate. Immediately she cried and ran to me, burying her face into my shoulder while I rocked her and she fell asleep. She was sad I reprimanded her, because by that point it was a very rare occurrence, and a bit embarrassed I had done it front of others. I wouldn’t change any of it, I didn’t yell and I was very kind about the whole thing, but it still broke my heart to see her sad and embarrassed.

And it’s even more challenging because even though her sad feelings are big and heart breaking, her angry feelings are big and loud and sometimes difficult for me to help her deal with properly. And oftentimes they are the result of something that, to me, is so minor. She wanted a red apple, but didn’t specify, and I handed her a green apple. End. Of. The. World. She’s stuck in imaginary mud on the library steps but Momma is failing to be a mind-reader and thus doesn’t realize H needs saving. End. Of. The. World. Someone looked cross-eyed at her toy and she was thinking she might want to play with it tomorrow. End. Of. The. World.

So I get it. Why it’s called “terrible.” I do. I also realize it doesn’t magically stop when they turn 3. (It gets worse, I’ve been assured!).

But just as she expresses her sad and mad emotions in such big ways, she shows her happy and lovey and excited and compassionate and empathetic emotions in big ways. She’s constantly showering me in hugs and kisses, as well as J and B. Every other sentence out of her mouth seems to be, “I just love you so much, Momma.” She’s so in tune with me and has been the tiny person wrapping her arms around me when I’ve been out of sorts dealing with this lead business. She’s reassuring me that everything is going to be okay.

She gets so excited about everything. She squeals in delight when she receives mail. She was so genuinely thrilled when she opened a stack of books for Christmas. We’re going to the library today? Hooray! Everything is fun and exciting and worth jumping for joy over.

She’s (typically) gentle with her baby brother. When he goes to touch the TV and she knows that we’ve stopped her from that, she says in the sweetest voice, “Oh, lovey, you mustn’t touch that. It could fall on you and hurt you.” Or when he is being aggressive and hits her, she’ll say, “Ow, that hurts me. Hitting isn’t nice, B. We don’t hit. Would you like to give me a high 5 instead?” And this affirms that gentle and non-punitive parenting was the right change for us.

She’s the tiny little girl with a mighty voice who wasn’t afraid to call out a bellowing dad in front of Old Navy for yelling at his upset toddler by informing him that “yelling isn’t nice” and he was making the boy sad. I’d never been so damn proud of her lack of filter.

Which gets me to the 2 year old lack of filter. For the first time since she was born I have this amazing, beautiful, unfiltered view straight into her soul. She says anything and everything on her mind. She knows nothing about political correctness. She has no desire or capability to be malicious or hurtful. Just honest. She’s purely honest.

Once, as she toted her colored baby doll around, a friend asked her if the baby was hungry. She looked at said friend, blankly, and replied, “No, he’s just black.” I laughed so hard I cried.

One fantastic grocery trip I got to listen to her tell me, “Oh, look, Mommy. That’s a boy. He has a penis. Oh, there’s a girl. She has a vulva!” And it was in that overly loud toddler voice, so everyone heard. Everything. Fantastic. And despite trying to tell her that is wasn’t wholly appropriate for us to talk about genitalia in public, especially other people's, she didn’t stop. She only replied with, “We’re just talking, Momma. We’re not touching any penises!”

She has no problem calling me out when I’m being less than kind. I’ve heard, “You’re not being nice, Mommy,” more than once. And, “Do you just need a hug?” which is what I ask her when she’s getting cranky.

I love that she can communicate all of her wants and needs and thoughts without that infant cry and babble. She spoke quite well much earlier than the norm, but age 2 seemed to perfect her language.

She used the word “synonymous” once and I nearly peed my pants.

It’s been amazing to be a part of and witness the drastic transformation that one short year can do to a 2 year old (and her parents! A good friend so kindly told me I went from looking like I was 15 to over 30…so I aged 15 years in less than one!).

The most humbling of all was learning that I can’t control her. Or anyone. As human beings, even as parents, we do not have the ability to control any one, not even our children. Sure, you can yell, threaten, smack, whatever. But there is no guarantee that your child would change and give you control. And honestly, would you want them to? You’d just be setting them up to learn to give up control to anyone who bullies them in life (because, if we’re being honest, yelling, threatening, and spanking are nothing more than bullying). And no one wants that.

2 year olds are learning to push and test boundaries. It’s how they function as human beings. But they also easily and happily teach you that exerting control on the world, on people, is something that simply cannot, and should not be done.

You just have to learn to let go. Roll with the punches. You will never win an argument with your 2 year old, at least not in a manner that is truly successful and beneficial for their mental and emotional (and possibly physical) health, as well as your own. So laugh instead.

If you embrace it, 2 is awesome. 2 is phenomenal and fun. 2 is insightful.

Turns out, 2 isn’t quite as terrible as some would have lead me to believe. But I guess it’s all a matter of perspective. Glass half full kind of thing.

My house might look like a frat party has been thrown the night before – toilet paper everywhere, a baby doll swimming in a toilet of yellow water, sippy cups strewn everywhere, dirty clothes in every nook and cranny possible, crushed up crackers and smashed blueberries every other step you take, curtains literally pulled out of the wall, crayon drawings covering the walls.

But if you’re willing to just take a deep breath, smile, cherish this brief time in the grand scheme of things when you get to parents an amazing 2 year old, then it’s all okay.

Because 2 year olds are amazing.