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Siblings have to share attention. It’s just how it is. Most likely it is good for them and they end up better for it.

But that doesn’t mean it is easy.

My oldest was four and a half when her little sister arrived, so she was pretty used to undivided attention. However, she had also had enough time to consider the benefits of having a sister. And it helped that she was mostly to an age where you could reason with her enough to explain that the initial “share shock” of sharing mommy with a newborn baby wouldn’t last forever, and eventually she would grow into an awesome play buddy.

And my oldest has been an amazing sister. She is helpful when I need her, she is patient when I am not available at the exact moment she want me–she’s a blessing.

To be totally honest, she isn’t complaining about sharing my time. I am.

You see, we’ve hit the full-blown toddler transition this week. Perhaps it is because we are battling teething and a cold, which have affected our sleep. Or perhaps it’s just that magical hour of childhood where children figure out what they want but they don’t have the language to ask for it, which I’m sure is frustrating to say the least. Either way, we are experiencing all the reasons why people dread the toddler years.

Today alone I had to deal with a temper tantrum before breakfast, then breakfast, and then dressing the toddler to leave for the oldest’s eye appointment. The oldest got herself dressed, her teeth brushed, and helped hang out with the toddler while I got ready. We walked to the appointment, which was a nice time for conversation with the oldest. But as soon as we arrived at the eye doctor, all the toddler alarm bells went off. Strange place with strange people means crying, even if mommy is holding us. And you guys, this is not a quiet cry. It’s a “Sorry ma’am at the front desk, I can’t hear what you are telling me to fill out on the paperwork” kind of cry. So I’m juggling a hysterical toddler, trying to fill out paperwork when they come to take the oldest back to the room.

I already know from past experience that this isn’t going to work well. The toddler will cry the whole time and the doctor won’t be able to hear anything else or concentrate on my oldest. So rather than accompanying her to her first eye doctor visit, she went with the nurse while we waited in the waiting room. She didn’t seem to mind and was a total rockstar. (Although she did tell me on the walk home that she wished I had been able to come with her. Insert mini heartbreak here.) I told her I wished I had too, but that she had done such a good job and that it was great that she was old enough to do stuff like that.

When we got home we all played in the basement. I got out one of my old dolls for the oldest and we went through the tub of accessories, talking and having fun. But soon the toddler was trying to climb the dollhouse and wouldn’t listen when I told her to stop so I had to get up to get her, which meant a defiant temper tantrum which meant I had to take her up to time out. And then it was lunch time so I had to feed her. And once again the oldest was left to entertain herself, which she happily did.

She doesn’t complain, but in my head, I do.

In my head, I throw a little fit that I can’t sit down and concentrate on her without having to attend to a temper tantrum or a danger or a diaper. In my head I throw a little fit that I can’t be with her in the doctor’s office because her sister is afraid of everything outside of our living room. In my head I throw a fit that I can’t play dolls for a few minutes without having to always keep an eye on a mischievous toddler. In my head I throw a fit that even her doctor’s appointments can’t be “her” time. And it isn’t fair. But there’s nothing I can do about it.

Perhaps it is because I’m acutely aware of the fast-approaching school year and I’m dreading having even less time with her. Perhaps it’s because the new baby will arrive in September, meaning my time and attention will be even further divided.

Either way, I feel like she is in this perfect stage of being independent, yet still wanting to spend time with me. She is funny and creative and articulate and makes me laugh and think. And I don’t want to miss it. I want to be able to fully appreciate who she is at this moment in her life.

But it isn’t always that easy.

So we schedule mommy-daughter dates. We make the best of toddler nap times. We share subtle laughing eye rolls when her sister is being especially toddler-y. I take advantage of the little chances to hug her and thank her for being my helper. I remind her that this stage can feel hard for both of us and that some days it feels harder than others, but it won’t always be difficult.

And we get through it together. Because that’s what families do. If this beautiful family of mine has taught me anything, it’s how to be flexible. This week it will be the toddler who needs me, next week the oldest, next week the baby. There will probably be weeks where I have to steal time from all of them to take care of myself.

That’s what families do. We all give and take from each other.

And in the end, we all end up with more love because of it.

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