Having children is the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me. I love each of them with every fiber of my being. And when you read this please remember how much I love them. 

And don’t be judging me Brenda, your precious peach isn’t any better...

My oldest son is a very strong spirited little boy. And when I say strong spirited I mean well, un-fucking controllable. When he turned four, hells gates opened and put into my child a personality that would make the strongest of men buckle at the knees. And that was the same time I was pregnant with my third. I was thrilled with this new found sense of defiance, let me tell you. I was 9 months pregnant when he had his first ultimate meltdown and it was like trying to wrangle a coked up cat in the deep end of a pool. What the actual fuck happens to their tiny brain when they turn four? The transition from babyhood to childhood is not it, no, no, no. That’s not transitioning. Anyone who has had to try to strap one of these banshees into a car seat when they want to go back to the LEGO store (and made it out alive) will tell you. I have read so many “terrible twos” articles and stories about the epic three year old battles. I have yet to see anyone write about their experiences with a four year old. I’m so stupid I actually thought it was because it gets better. Holy shit was I wrong. I was given a false sense of hope. I think it’s because no one wants to tell you what you’re really in for. These tantrums trump any two year olds kicking and screaming I’ve ever seen. It’s like when I said “omg could this get any worse” my three year old said “hold my beer” (or sippy cup, kids shouldn’t be drinking) This kid can go on for hoooouuurs!! Hours! And two year olds have meltdowns about nothing, four year olds have intent and opinions and they want to plead their case and they have a BIGGER vocabulary!! And you know that little f bomb you dropped last week not thinking he heard you? Oh he did, and he will repeat it on blast maliciously in the middle of the quiet grocery store over and over again. Louder each time because you’re an asshole who didn’t let him eat the marshmallows in isle 5. And guess what? He won’t drop it until after you’ve gotten home. And then when you think it’s over? Something will remind him of those fucking marshmallows two hours later and it starts..All. Over. Again. My son kicked a hole, an actual HOLE in our bathtub over a Starburst. Not only are the meltdowns gigantic, the strength of these little bodies is amazing.. Like should we sign him up for the worlds strongest baby competition or call an exorcist? I thought it was just my kid for awhile. I thought I was failing as a mom. And after diet changes, time outs, all the reading a mom can do these blow out scream fests continued with my little human. After conversations with other mamas, turns out four year olds are just kind of assholes sometimes. And you can’t prepare for it or change it. They just are. Because I’m realistic and I’m not here to sugar coat the shit show of motherhood, I can say that. It’s hard. And if we can’t be honest we will be hiding in our bathrooms alone crying for all eternity. Thinking it’s us or just our kids. But it’s everyone’s. Even you Brenda!! 

So if you think you are really in it right now with the terrible twos, but are holding out for a much calmer three and four ... I’m here to tell you the truth, it gets worse. Brace yourself, Winter is coming. My darling boy, my brown eyed sweetheart with bouncing curls and pudgy hands would never! ...Ooooh boy was I clueless. So I’m holding it together, and holding on tight. I have two more boys that have not entered this season of life yet, so lucky me I get it three fold. 

But BUT..somewhere in between all of those insane meltdowns there are still cuddles and sweetness and kisses and you know, when they sleep they’re cute. Love them in their worst, love them in their best. It’s the only way to survive sanely remember how much you love them even in the toughest of times. Maybe 5 will be the calm after the storm? I said maybe. I’ll let you know.

Danielle Cohen