How a Sippy Cup Hit Me Like a Ton of Bricks

I was pregnant back in 2009, before smart phones had an ‘app for that’. I looked forward to reading my old school pregnancy book every night to see what size fruit my baby had grown into. Early on, she was the size of a poppy seed. Later, she grew to the size of a grapefruit. 9-months of fruit references went on while I beamed with pride, already feeling like a top-notch mom-to-be. I cut out caffeine, drank enough water to fill a lake, and followed the baby book suggestions to a T.

Fast forward to the big birthday at the hospital. Instead of happily sipping water from a jug, it felt like I was drinking from a fire hose. “Change the diaper this way.” “Hold the baby like that.” Doctor visits for me, doctor visits for her. It was all a blur.

After arriving home, I tried my best to keep up with the new-mom advice while taking enough photos to fill two baby books in just a few weeks. Every little drool bubble was photo-worthy. What the photos couldn’t capture was how needed and important I felt. I helped her with every little thing.

At 12 weeks, I returned to work. Just like that the baby book gathered dust. Life picked up speed. Between work, dinner, playtime, cleanup, and bedtime, we were just trying to keep up. Then came baby #2, and suddenly I had two tiny humans with big needs. I tried to keep doing everything for both of them, until I realized—I was sprinting a marathon without any training.

Eventually, I learned something critical. If I wanted to survive parenting with any energy left for myself, I needed to stop trying to do everything and start letting my little people do big things.

Here are three lessons I learned to lighten my load.

The kids excitedly icing cup cakes

The Great Dixie Cup Wake-Up Call

Lesson One: Ditch the sippy cup and embrace the spills.

Let spills happen. Let the milk run down the table, their shirt, and onto the floor. Grit your teeth and let them toddle proudly with a full cup while the liquid gets painfully close to the spilling everywhere. It’s part of the process and I learned that after the dreadful Dixie cup moment.

When my son was just weeks old, I signed my two-year-old daughter up for a “Play and Learn” class. On the first day, swaddling my newborn in the viewing room, I proudly watched as she took her seat and started her activities.  A few minutes into toddler time, she was handed a Dixie cup and a sheet of stickers. My heart skipped a beat—She’s never used an open cup. She’s never peeled a sticker herself.

In a scene that felt like a 5 minute slow motion picture, she spilled water all over herself and stared blankly at the sticker sheet. I felt so bad for her. Thankfully, she was helped by her teacher and she happily moved along. But, for me? That moment was my wake-up call. I had been so focused on helping her that I’d skipped chances to let her try.

From that day forward, we made room for spills, messes, and mistakes. We stopped trying to do it all and started giving her space to learn. You can guess what happened next. Like a proud toddler, she rose to the challenge.

Two years after the sippy cup nightmare, she helps to paint her new bedroom. Although she looks frightened, she was really excited to help!

Lift Them Up by Bringing Things Down

Lesson Two: Rearrange your space to boost independence.

After the Dixie cup moment, I realized I needed to rethink how our home was set up. So I moved the everyday items like cups, plates, silverware to lower cabinets where the kids could reach them and grab what they needed, when they needed it. For meals, they grabbed what they needed and set their spot at the table.

Years later, we visited friends whose kids were older than mine when we made those changes. When dinner rolled around, their kids stood waiting for their parents to get plates from the top shelves while they juggled food, guests, and place settings.

The kids were helpless, they couldn’t reach what they needed. That moment reminded me how often we hold on to tasks our kids are totally capable of doing. Imagine being a toddler, helplessly waiting for the tall humans to do something for you. You know you can do it, if only you could reach. I can’t really blame them for the terrible 2’s and 3’s. I would be vocal for my independence too! When we bring things down, we lift them up. They’ve got this, as long as we give them a chance.

Instead of reaching for the hair brush to comb his hair, he stabs a nugget instead. Why use a fork?

Doing Laundry Stinks

Lesson Three: Literally share the load.

I thought I was ahead of the game because my kids folded laundry when they were in first and third grade. We’d knock out a chore while hanging out together, watching TV, and I felt like I was crushing it. But, then came another wake-up call.

While visiting friends, we learned their daughter, who was only a year older than ours, wasn't just folding, she was doing her own laundry from start to finish. 

Mind. Blown.

Why hadn’t I thought of that? What’s the harm? It’s not complicated. Carry clothes to the washer, add soap, hit a button. Go do something else until it buzzes. Move it to the dryer. (If you’re me…forget about it, let it sit in the dryer for a few days, run a 15 minute refresh.) Done. Simple. 

After this visit, we came home and handed off the laundry duties. Sure, we still get the last-minute “I need that shirt for tomorrow!” moments, but I’ll take that over managing every seriously sweaty, stinky load myself, especially after the volleyball and basketball games.  P.U.

Basket of unfolded laundry

Running the Marathon Together Begins Now

Through the years, I’ve learned that it’s sometimes hard to let go of feeling needed. Letting go of the little tasks doesn’t mean we care less, or our kids feel neglected. It means we’re giving them a chance to step up, even if that means a spilled milk or a pink load of laundry along the way.

I’ve made plenty of mistakes while holding on to the things that made me feel like a “good mom.” I’m sure I’ll continue to make many more in these teenage years. Although I’ve strived for perfection, the kids want independence. It builds confidence, resilience, and real-world skills. They want to show us what they’re made of.

My teens have outgrown the fruit chart references. Not only are we jogging this marathon together, my kids are handing out some water and snacks along the way to get us through it together.

So, take a breath and let go a little. Bring the dishes down, hand over the laundry, and let them carry the cup, even if they spill. Be proud you gave them the chance to shine.

Family black light run