Eating My Words

Eating my words — this is my formal confession. Can I take you back seven years? My children were ages 4, 2, and 1. I had things all figured out for “older” children. I assumed once diapers, whining, and incredibly long bedtime routines were over, it was going to be smooth sailing for me and my kiddos. And here is my confession: I judged the heck out of parents of “last children” — or third, fourth, and fifth kids with older siblings. I had a few bones to pick with all of you.

I was appalled by: your children’s access to shows like SpongeBob SquarePants and iCarly; your complete disregard for bedtime especially during the summer; your refusal to baby-proof your home; your family’s ridiculous habit of giving in to the youngest child when he or she wanted anything; your choice not to make a train with your child on the large twirly slide; your quick “I am having a conversation right now, please don’t interrupt” when your child obviously wanted something; your decision not to pack six different healthy snacks just in case; the way you dismissed the newest parenting techniques; and the words you allowed your children to say like “stupid” and “butt” and “crap.”

My list could go on. So here it is: I formally apologize for every single one of these thoughts and comments. I am eating my words. Every last one.

How I Became Every Parent I Ever Judged

You see, I am now that mom. The one I wondered about. The one I quietly (and sometimes not so quietly) critiqued. My boys are 11, 9, 8, and my little straggler just turned 3, and eating my words has been a daily practice.

My 3-year-old rarely watches TV, but when he does it is not PBS. He watches with his brothers who are pretty into Star Wars, Chopped, and action movies. We don’t have different televisions going to suit each person’s fancy. We would rather be together. He goes to bed at about 10 o’clock — jaw-droppingly late, I know. But we are often at sports or school events until 9pm, and by the time we arrive home, read scriptures, and say prayers, it is 10 o’clock. He wakes up around 7:30 and still takes a nap, clocking between 12 and 13 hours of sleep. He is happy, silly, and easy to be around.

I never baby-proofed anything with him besides the stairs. He learned early what was touchable and what needed to be left alone. I swore I would never give in to the youngest child, but I do. I used to go to the park to play with my kids — now I go to the park to give us both some social time. My toddler is capable of playing without me hovering. I no longer carry a diaper bag or fill up bags of snacks before we head out. No one has withered away yet.

What I Understand Now That I Am Eating My Words

My kids used to interrupt and pull me away at all hours. I thought this made me a great mother. It took years to realize it made me an exhausted mother with very needy children. My youngest knows that sometimes he has to wait. This is good for both of us.

We’ve loosened up about language too. My 11-year-old knows and hears the real “S word,” so if he wants to say “Ugh, practice today was so stupid!” I let it fly. This results sometimes in a frustrated 3-year-old exclaiming the same. Maybe I should correct it, but it is a losing battle, so I usually just giggle.

And here I am now, in their spot — hoping you don’t decide to cancel a play date after all the potty talk and fruit snacks consumed under my watchful care. Now I am on the other side of my former parenting fence, and the view is much clearer. The women I so vigilantly judged now have productive teenagers, selfless young adults, and college graduates. They are fabulous mothers who are in tune with their children. Eating my words is not just an exercise in humility. It is preparation for everything that comes next in parenting. I should have climbed off my high horse sooner. I should have looked for the good, appreciated the differences, seen the fun those moms were having. I could have put away my advice and opened up a bag of snacks to share. Heaven knows I had plenty to go around.

Related Reading

• you are the perfect mother for your children
• how to feel like a successful mom every day
• blessings of a low-maintenance mother

Helpful External Resources

• Greater Good Science Center — why parents judge each other and how to stop

Frequently Asked Questions: Eating My Words

Why do parents judge other parents so harshly?

Eating my words about every judgment I made comes from a simple truth: parents of only small children cannot imagine how different things get when older children arrive. Judgments about bedtime, screen time, and food rules almost always evaporate when you are actually living the circumstances you judged. Nobody knows what a phase of parenting looks like from the inside until they are inside it.

What is the hardest part of parenting a youngest child with older siblings?

Eating my words about youngest children is universal: the youngest is surrounded by older siblings whose shows, sleep schedules, and social norms are already set. The youngest adapts up. Holding a toddler to the same standards applied to a firstborn is a losing battle. The parents who look like they’ve given up often haven’t given up at all — they’ve calibrated.

How do you become less judgmental of other parents?

Eating my words is the cure for judgment: live longer in parenting and you will occupy every position you once criticized. The women who seemed to have no standards for their youngest are now raising productive teenagers and selfless young adults. The view from inside every parenting stage looks nothing like the view from outside it. Climb off the high horse. Look for the good. Open a bag of snacks to share.