The Wonder Weeks and the Virtue of Patience

More like the “this-person-sanctifies-me” weeks amiright? Acknowledging our embodied-ness in order to build virtuous habits.

Photo by Scott Webb on Unsplash

I struggled to write this post, as I don’t want it to come off as a big advertisement for websites and books I’ve consulted but am not deeply invested in. But I firmly believe that knowledge is capable of inspiring us to virtue, so I’ve tried to strike a balance between discussion of the knowledge itself and discussing the ways our family has tried to utilize that knowledge to encourage virtuous habits.

It’s a long running joke (?) that kids hit their second birthday and immediately turn into unholy terrors. The “terrible twos” it’s called. Followed by the year of the “threenager”. I’m not sure if four-year-olds yet have an affectionately-derogatory moniker, but most parents I know say that kids become more reasonable around age five, so my guess is the age-related nicknames don’t continue past that.

The first few years of a child’s life are a time of wild, rapid, never-ending development. While the first year is focused largely on physical growth and development (delicious chunky baby thighs! crawling! walking!!), the next few are focused on a huge range of social and emotional milestones, along with a few of the fine motor skills that take a little more time to develop. These constant changes and new experiences can be disorienting and exhausting, and our kiddos can go through shifts in mood, increased separation anxiety, and a litany of other “symptoms” as a result.

Child development research theorizes that all children go through similar phases of development at similar ages (generally calculated from gestational age / due date, rather than birth date). That being said, different children may react differently to these phases of development, with some becoming fussier and more clingy while others experience sleep and appetite disruptions. Most parents I know have at least encountered, if not actively referenced, the research on infants that is presented in The Wonder Weeks; fewer have encountered the similar research for the toddler years and beyond, which can be accessed at The Observant Mom. These books and websites lay out in clear terms the ages at which children go through these developmental phases with, as best as they can, a description of both the child’s experience of the world and the parent’s experience of the child. With my eldest, I referenced The Wonder Weeks almost constantly. It gave me such peace of mind to know that (1) I wasn’t crazy - she was acting differently; and (2) it was explainable, normal, and finite - it wouldn’t last forever! With our second (and this seems to be the case for many parents-of-multiple-kids that I know), the specific dates, signs, and skills aren’t as important to me because I know from experience that it’s just a phase. Rather than constantly (desperately!) checking in to see how long the phase will last, I can lean in to meet my infant’s needs with more detachment from the emotional (and physiological) reaction I often have to her neediness.

Part of this detachment also comes from a saying I’ve encountered over the last two years, “She’s not giving you a hard time. She’s having a hard time.” (Let’s be real, it was the part of Gentle Parenting TikTok that made its way over to Facebook because that’s definitely the highest-quality source of information in the 2020s.) Source aside, the saying really did get me thinking and has seeped into how I try to interact with my girls on a daily basis. Of course there are times when children push buttons just to push buttons. No one is denying that. But I think those occasions are fewer than we might assume, at least in these early years.

I see a lot of people try to act like this attitude in a parent is somehow anti-discipline, as if a more “gentle” parenting style can only lead to self-centered, unruly, poorly-behaved children. My role as parent is certainly to help my children learn kind, polite, and virtuous social behaviors, and I ought to correct them when their actions do not align with those goals. But that being said, there are also plenty of times when they have a meltdown simply because they don’t yet have the communication skills to explain their desires or perceived needs. Maybe they’re growing and in pain (anyone else get awful leg cramps during growth spurts?), or they just grew and have to figure out how much space they take up now. Maybe their brain is working so hard to learn so! many! new! words! that they’re just truly exhausted. Those are often not occasions when severe punishment would be warranted, especially if the primary motivation is my own discomfort or embarrassment. Instead, I can acknowledge my own reaction, re-regulate myself (as the adult in the situation), and assist my child in learning to do the same.

And once again, I hope it goes without saying that this approach isn’t a get-out-of-jail free card for behavior that is unkind, hurtful, or dangerous. We don’t seek out research on child development in order to justify or excuse those behaviors, but simply to explain them. Keeping in mind the things our children might be going through ought to help us regulate ourselves as parents, and change our mindset when approaching our children. It doesn’t change whether or not we correct inappropriate behavior - it only changes the degree of patience with which we are able to do so. And I’ve noticed this bear tremendous fruit not only in my relationship with my daughters, but also in my marriage, in my broader family ties, and in my friendships. I still have a long way to go, particularly in some long-standing habits and grievances, but it is at least a start.

I once had a friend ask me, “Which physical discomfort makes you grumpiest: hunger, sleep deprivation, or heat?” While I think the question was a pragmatic one, as we were leaving on a work trip and hadn’t traveled together before, I really like the question because it forces us to reflect on the fact that we are embodied souls. What is happening in our bodies affects us as persons and, by extension, affects those around us. And goodness knows that if my husband can extend grace to me (usually alongside a granola bar) for snapping at him when I’m hangry, then I can extend grace to my children for being uncomfortable with the rapid and unfamiliar expansion of their world. If I can acknowledge that he is often more aware than I am of the way my physical needs affect my ability to function (which I can and gratefully do acknowledge), then I hope I can embrace that role of guardian, guide, and advocate for my children.

“If you think you hate everyone, you need to eat. If you think everyone hates you, you need to sleep.”

- Silly-sounding but 100% accurate social media advice. I said what I said.

But there’s an important caveat here. For some parents, this awareness is helpful; for others, it can be a source of anxiety, dread, or even despair. If I can be more gracious, more patient, and more understanding with my children when I recognize what they are experiencing, I should embrace that knowledge. If it doesn’t help, I shouldn’t seek it out, and likely ought to actively avoid it. Just like hunger, exhaustion, and heat can affect our mood, so can an overstimulated nervous system or a brain overloaded with information.

And I think this same topic can extend beyond just children and their developmental phases: if I apply the same principle to my husband, how would our family life change? Could knowledge of our biological differences allow me to extend grace to him? If so, I should embrace it. If it leads to further irritation, it can be a near occasion for me. I’ve got a lot - A LOT - to say on this topic, so we’ll end with that little teaser and save the full discussion for another day.

There are a lot of books I’ve read that play into this topic, and I hope to put together and share some summary and recommendation notes soon, but for now, I hope this helps you to approach your family with greater patience this week.

Where have you encountered the limitations of your own physical body? Have you been in a situation where someone else’s limitations were easier to sympathize with upon greater knowledge of the person?