I love being a toddler-mom. There is something so magical about watching a tightly-swaddled little caterpillar of a baby transform into a reckless winged butterfly. There are few things I love more than watching my daughter learn, grow, and interact with the world around her. In fact, it often feels like I’m rediscovering the enchantment of life through the perspective of her eyes. But we can’t discuss toddlerhood without acknowledging a very tangible truth: toddlers are freaking hard.

Personally speaking, on any given day of parenting a toddler, at least 5 of the following things are guaranteed to occur:

• Getting a board book thrown at my face.
• Cleaning yogurt off the floor, appliances, and somehow my hair.
• Diffusing a conniption over not allowing eggshells to be removed from the compost bin.
• Explaining that we don’t eat dog food.
• Removing a toy octopus from the toilet.
• Rescuing my cat from the grips of an overly affectionate toddler.
• Rescuing my dog from the grips of an overly affectionate toddler.
• Firmly asserting that we never, EVER run into the street, then frantically repeating BOOBOO. Big, BIG BOOBOO.
• Gently explaining that we don’t shove other toddlers down the slide in the pursuit of total playground domination.
•  Reminding that we don’t throw unwanted food on the floor, as she proceeds to make it rain peas and carrots.

It’s a fine line when it comes to toddlers. Parenting a tiny person means respecting their new-found autonomy and need to explore, while setting firm boundaries and politely explaining why we never, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE, pick unknown dog poop up off the street. It’s a delicate dance that nobody teaches you beforehand. You’re just pulled onto the dance floor one day and expected to perform. Meanwhile, the judges (everyone in the grocery store witnessing your child’s meltdown over a jar of olives) carefully watches and rates your ability to two-step around total toddler implosion. Such talent. Such art.

Sometimes it feels like parenting a toddler has made me regress into a toddler myself. I often find myself on-edge, emotionally unstable, and ready to descend into a tantrum the moment things don’t go my way; only to bounce back completely delirious, enthralled with manic laughter. I firmly believe that toddlerhood is contagious, and therefore it makes us all a little crazy. And that’s okay. 

But even on the hardest days, my adoration for my daughter never wavers. Just like she stretches the limits of my patience, she also stretches the limits of my passion. Parenting a toddler has taught me that my love is resilient like an old oak tree caught up in a gusty storm. My leaves and branches might rattle and break, but my roots remain strong, deep, and untouched by the wind. These roots are where my lovelies and I feel them growing deeper every day.