Underwear. Shorts. T-shirt. Stuffed animal. One by one my son packed each item into his Batman suitcase, mumbling under his breath about the unfairness of life.

“OK, Mom, I’m leaving. And I’m not coming back!”

Then off he went, out the door, his chubby little hand pulling all his apparent worldly possessions behind him. He was five when my son “ran away” from home . . . to the stop sign at the end of our cul-de-sac.

My hubby and I watched him leave from the front lawn, shouting out our proclamations of love and well wishes. Lest you think I’m crazy, we knew full-well our type AAA would turn around before walking out of eyesight and realizing we weren’t coming after him. Allowing him to stomp off and protest was our way of affirming his frustration.

After welcoming back our mini-prodigal, we listened long and hard to all his complaints: he’s always the one getting in trouble, little brother gets away with everything, little sister gets way too much attention, and he never gets to do anything fun.

Oh, the stresses and strains of being the oldest with all of five years under his belt.

So we told our mature-beyond-a-half-decade little boy we understood his concerns and showered down love like rain upon him. We explained how some things in life are difficult by default.

Those of you with kids in the youngish stage can surely relate to the throes of child rearing multiple offspring. Kids tug our mom hearts in every direction as we try to manage our days and keep our sanity. Emotions related to infractions, frustrations, or accidents tend to grow exponentially because of exhaustion and the feeling of there being no end in sight. I lay awake for nights on end after our son’s pack-up-and-leave incident. Guilt and sorrow overwhelmed me.

However, what I’ve learned looking back, now that my three kids are in their 20s, is how much truth lies beneath the statement, “little kids, little problems; big kids, big problems.” Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a tiny incident of a kindergartener packing a bag and stomping off in a tantrum.

Decades later, I’ve realized how some—OK, tons—of my worries, fears, frets, and overanalyzing ways caused unnecessary stress and angst. This is not to say that the burdens we feel in any stage of parenting aren’t valid. We can only relate to where our feet are planted, therefore every struggle is relative and real.

I do wish someone would’ve told me years ago not to sweat the small stuff when motherhood overwhelmed me to the nth degree. I guess a book by that title did come out during my mad dash of raising littles, but I recall an inability to apply the principles. They sounded foreign with so much responsibility weighing on my heart, you know, ensuring the health, livelihood, and safety of three human beings.

Which is why I’m saying to all of you, “Try your best not to sweat the small stuff.” Tomorrow will have enough big problems of its own, and raising teens and young adults requires full-mettle moxie. You might as well conserve your energy now so you have the strength to navigate the pressures of later.

Here is a rundown of a few things to consider today as you prepare for the intensity of the future.