Raising Little Humans on Very Little Sleep

Parenting is not for the weak, physically or mentally.

Yesterday started with a tickle in my throat and the sudden realization that I had a meeting scheduled for two of our three kids. From home, thankfully, but that still meant getting myself and all three kids ready, feeding the dogs, and strategically placing the dogs behind closed doors. There was no time to be sick.

We made it on time. The meeting went fine. The girls were ready for their morning catnaps. I laid them down, and in the brief quiet that followed, the sore throat and full-body exhaustion settled in. I felt like I’d been run over by a truck.

Honestly, my toddler was probably the one driving, and may have backed over me a few times for good measure.

The night before had been rough. He used to have night terrors nightly; now they’re rare, but this one was a doozy. Night terrors are already hard to watch, but this one was different. He had a full night terror, woke up screaming, was consoled back to sleep…then had a smaller one. He woke again, crying and panicked, before finally, out of pure exhaustion, snuggling up to me, whispering “thanks mama,” and letting me comfort him until he fell asleep. The whole ordeal lasted over thirty minutes in the middle of the night. So yes, hit by a truck level of tired.

Back to yesterday.

One twin was in an excellent mood and content just being busy. Put her in her walker and she becomes a rocket, zooming through the house at impressive speeds. Her sister scoots around trying to keep up, getting faster by the day, but wow, this girl is quick and constantly finding new mischief.

The other twin has been off for about a week now. We’ve all been passing around a nasty bug, so we assumed it was that, or maybe teething. She’s usually our easy baby: happy to play in the playpen, just be nearby, or be held. Just generally content with life.

When she’s not feeling well, though, all she wants is to be held. Between her being overtired, her body feeling stiffer and more uncomfortable than usual, and the constant need for contact, it’s a lot. Like trying to eat dinner while holding a baby, while a toddler attempts to climb into your lap, and thinking, “I just need five minutes without being touched.”

Most of the time, I don’t mind at all. I’ll take all the snuggles I can get. With twins and a toddler, I constantly feel like I don’t get enough one-on-one time with any of them, so when they want me, I lean in, touched out moments and all.

After dinner, we were waiting for my husband to get home. I had about an hour before the girls’ bedtime. I was sitting in the recliner holding one baby when the other decided she wanted up too. Okay, one twin on each leg. We were singing, playing, having a great time. Big brother wandered over for snuggles and apparently decided that mom juggling twins while singing wasn’t challenging enough.

So he climbed on me. Not my lap. He climbed up the side of the recliner, onto the headrest, and then onto my head.

In true tornado-toddler fashion.

Time to get the kids to bed before we go to the ER for stitches!

The girls went down smoothly. My toddler watched a show with my husband, then brought me a box of puzzles to do in the dark while we snuggled, an excellent reminder that mom is apparently supposed to see in total darkness. Eventually, we settled into bed.

And then he decided to make other plans.

My toddler is a sensory seeker, and we’re in a phase of increased strength paired with big feelings. He headbutted me. Thinking quickly (and maybe foolishly), I decided to pretend to cry, hoping it would help him understand that we need to be gentle. I’ve tried every parenting trick before; it felt worth a shot.

My sweet boy climbed off the bed and announced, “I’ll get daddy. Daddy help.” I heard him tell my husband, “Mommy broken. She crying. Daddy help,” before running back into the room saying, “I’m coming mama!”

He climbed back onto the bed, checked on me, and asked, “You alright, mama?” I explained that I was okay, but my head hurt because he headbutted me.

And then, without hesitation, he headbutted me again.

He repeated the entire process.

If it weren’t for the very real headache that followed, the whole exchange would have been incredibly sweet. As it was, it was still adorable… just with a side of ibuprofen.

Counselor’s Corner: What This Day Really Shows

As a counselor and a parent, days like this are a powerful reminder of a few important truths:

1. Behavior is communication.

Night terrors, clinginess, sensory seeking, and even headbutting aren’t signs of “bad behavior.” They’re signals of unmet needs, fatigue, overstimulation, discomfort, or emotional overload. Especially in young children, the body often speaks before words can.

2. Connection comes before correction.

My toddler didn’t need a lecture about headbutting, he needed reassurance, regulation, and safety. Even when the behavior repeated (and hurt), his intent was care, not harm. Teaching gentleness is a process, not a single moment. My toddler spun in circles for a few minutes and got some bear hugs before passing out a few minutes later.

3. Parents are allowed to be touched out.

Loving your children deeply and needing space can coexist. Feeling overwhelmed doesn’t mean you’re failing, it means you’re human.

4. Repair matters more than perfection.

Kids don’t need perfect parents. They need parents who come back, explain, reconnect, and model how to repair after things go sideways.

If you’re in a season that feels relentless, know this: your exhaustion doesn’t cancel out your impact. These long, messy days are building safety, trust, and resilience, often in ways you won’t see until much later.

And if today felt like you got run over by a truck… you’re not alone. 💛