Parenting Big Kids

Now that we are in the “big kid stage” of parenting, I often find myself saying, “I thought it was going to get easier as they got older.” My friends told me that parenting changes, but it never really slows down. And wow, were they right.

The days of diapers and naps (sadly) are long behind us, but the days of leaving the nest are still quite a ways off (thankfully). These in-between years bring a different kind of challenge. It’s easy to assume our kids don’t need us as much when they’re happily glued to their screens after school, and we’re tempted to unwind with a book or just scroll on social media. But I know from experience that this time will fly by. The old adage is painfully true: the days are long, but the years are short.

The early years were exhausting but filled with snuggles and delight. Now, we are navigating middle school, homework, extracurricular activities, and friendships. We’re trying to find the delicate balance of being involved while giving our kids the independence and responsibility they need. The physical demands are less, but the emotional and mental demands only seem to increase. Just today, I was bombarded with notifications for all three kids during my work day (permission slips needed for all three of them, scheduling appointments, early dismissal tomorrow). Instead of keeping up with a running toddler (our firstborn never walked—only ran), we’re driving kids to practices and events, feeling just as worn out in a new way.

Recently, my husband and I started singing a song from one of our kids’ favorite preschool shows, Wallykazam. It was a short-lived show on Nick Jr. that we all loved. Before I knew it, I was in tears while cleaning the kitchen. That song transported me back to our tiny two-bedroom home, watching my toddlers play while I sipped coffee, their sweet little voices filling the room. How did we get from there to here, with a 13-year-old, 10-year-old, and 7-year-old? Gone are the midnight feedings and diaper changes. Now, we referee Nerf battles and have to ask for hugs that were once given freely. Gone are the days of planning outings around naps and working up the courage to brave the grocery store with little ones. Those days felt endless, but I blinked, and now we’re shuttling our oldest to pet-sitting jobs and band concerts. We’re in the era of neighbor kids constantly at our door and socks—so many socks—everywhere. Why are there always socks everywhere?

The problems our little ones faced were once easily solved with cuddles, chocolate milk, and an episode of Daniel Tiger. Now, the challenges are deeper—bullying, grades, and self-doubt. Yet, I’m learning that the solution is often the same: snuggles or a big hug, a good snack, and quality time together.

I catch myself wishing for the next season, thinking it will be easier and more hands-off. But our kids still need us, and they always will to some degree (hopefully). They’re learning to be people in this big world—aren’t we all? They still need guidance and direction, but more than anything, they need to know they are seen, heard, and cherished just as much now as when they were little. They need to know their ideas, thoughts, and opinions matter.

I still remember holding our oldest at two weeks old and telling my husband, “We have no idea what we’re doing!” Thirteen years later, I feel the same way. A friend recently reminded me that I may have been a mom for a long time, but I’ve never been the mom of a teenager before. Just like the newborn stage, this is new to us, and we’re figuring it out as we go, doing the best we can with what we have.

Many nights, I lie in bed wondering—just like I did in those early years—if I did enough that day. The endless to-do list pulls me in a million directions—work, meals, dishes, laundry (oh, the laundry!). At the end of the day, I just want to relax with a book or a show, but I don’t want to check out on my kids. I still make time for what feeds my soul, but I also want to be present for my family. Some days, I jokingly tell my husband I want to run away for just a bit, preferably to a five-star resort with unlimited snacks and no one asking where their socks are.

But then there are moments of sheer joy—coffee dates with our oldest, watching our kids learn new things, seeing them overcome challenges, listening to them share their hearts, witnessing friendships form, and learning from them every step of the way.

I’m exhausted all the time, but it’s the best kind of exhausted. These wild, strong-willed, amazing kids of ours are going to make the world a better place. And I wouldn’t trade this season for anything—except maybe a long nap followed by some really good coffee.