It Gets Easier—Kind Of
“It Gets Easier,” said the mom of two toddlers.
Raising little kids is hard. Really hard. Parenting is not for the faint of heart, and no one can convince me otherwise. Children challenge you constantly—mentally and physically—and by the end of each day, I'm completely depleted.
I’m a full-time working mom with a demanding leadership role, and I have two toddlers: one is 3.5, the other is 1.5. Our home is a whirlwind of schedules, snacks, meltdowns, and moments of magic. My husband and I are always on the move, trying to stay one step ahead while giving our kids the best of us. Most days, I genuinely can’t tell which is more stressful—my job or parenting.
But if today feels intense, last year was even tougher. We had a 6-month-old and a 2.5-year-old who made every day feel like a marathon. I kept asking myself, What did I get myself into? Why did I want all these babies? Don’t get me wrong—being a mom is my calling and the joy of my life—but that doesn’t mean it’s not brutally hard.
Back then, I was drowning in exhaustion. My baby wasn’t sleeping through the night, I was exclusively breastfeeding, and my body was beyond drained. Meanwhile, my toddler was mastering the art of expressing opinions and learning to potty train. I lived in an endless cycle of diapers, bedtime routines, feedings, and songs. And forget spontaneous outings—getting out of the house was an Olympic sport.
Whenever I mentioned I had two small kids, the parents of older children would give me that look. You know the one: Yikes… you’re in it. It’s a look of empathy but also helplessness. Because truly, the only way out is through. What strikes me is that the very best parts of this stage—the tiny voices, sweet cuddles, and pure love—are tangled up in the hardest part of parenting. Those seasoned parents would simply say, “It gets easier.”
I didn't believe them.
In the trenches, with two babies just months apart, I couldn’t see the horizon. I was surviving, not living. But a few months ago, something shifted. I was chatting with a friend and I found myself saying, “It got easier.” And it had.
I can’t pinpoint the exact moment—but somewhere over the past year, it got easier. Still hard, of course, but more manageable. The kids now have more independence, which takes pressure off of my husband and me. They're finally on the same schedule—meals, naps, bedtime—and that rhythm brought sanity back to our days. Life became (somewhat) predictable.
Even more importantly, I started to feel like me again. Nearly two years postpartum, my body and mind are returning to a version I recognize. We’ve fallen into a groove, and honestly, we’re having the best summer ever as a family of four. Endless hours at the pool, sweet memories—I know I’ll look back and say, those were the good old days.
Let me be clear: easier doesn’t mean easy. We’re still very much in it. We’re exhausted. The kids are growing, and their energy is relentless. Tantrums are frequent visitors. And the truth about parenting? Just when you think you’ve got it figured out, something shifts and you’re back to square one.
So, what’s the point of this rambling? I guess I want to speak to the parents in the thick of it—those with babies glued to their hips and sleep deprived. Those older parents weren’t lying. It does get easier. Not easy. But easier. And that’s something worth holding onto.
I also want to remind myself of this. Because whether it’s another baby someday or the next unpredictable phase, there will be new struggles. Days when I wonder if life will ever settle. But now I know—it will. Eventually.
Being a parent is the most beautiful, rewarding, and challenging adventure of my life. And I think that’s what makes it the best.
Until next time, XXX McKenzie