Parenting
By Jamie Lee
Updated: Jan. 23, 2023
Originally Published: Jan. 23, 2023
My 4-year-old son, Ethan, spent most of yesterday in tears. He also cried for the entire day prior, and the same went for the days before that. His emotional state is understandable. Since returning to school, he has been sleep-deprived due to our earlier wake-up time, and he’s struggling to adjust from being at home with me all day to attending preschool for part of the day.
For a child of his age, this level of distress is entirely reasonable. The adult equivalent of Ethan’s situation would be akin to dropping a modern individual into an isolated jungle tribe and saying, “Good luck with that!” while flying away in a helicopter. It’s a lot for a little one to handle.
On a rational level, I comprehend Ethan’s reasons for his emotional turmoil. However, understanding this does not transform me into a calm and collected parent. When he told me last night that the dinner I prepared (a simple meal) was “gross” and began sobbing uncontrollably, I was at a loss. Other things that had sent him into tears over the last few days included his shirt being “too tight,” a friend bumping into him, and my asking him to move his cup away from the edge of the table.
At bedtime, the situation escalated: he declared that we were now a co-sleeping family. The only times we’ve co-slept were immediately after he was born, during hotel stays, and when camping. My partner, Mark, tends to toss and turn enough at night; I didn’t need my child in the mix as well.
After three days of patience and empathy, I had been hanging on by a thread. I hugged. I comforted. I explained. I redirected. I sang lullabies. I did everything a good parent is supposed to do while taking deep breaths to try and share my calmness with him through my heartbeat.
But last night, at the end of a long day of being “Super Mom,” I hit my breaking point. My 4-year-old was screaming that he would never sleep in his room again. I attempted to remain calm: “It’s bedtime.” I showed empathy: “I understand. It’s been a tough few days. I can rub your back.” I even tried a firmer approach: “You shouldn’t speak to me like that.” Ultimately, I erupted: “I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE!!! I’M LOSING MY MIND!!! I’M DONE! I NEED A BREAK!”
Mark stayed with Ethan during his meltdown while I stepped outside to walk in circles around the driveway. I needed to escape the sound of his cries. I had reached a point where I was either going to scream loudly enough to cause lasting emotional harm or I might throw something—a piece of furniture—across the room. So I opted to step away.
For a moment, the idea of picking up Ethan’s nightstand and hurling it at his dresser seemed like a plausible action. I could almost hear the crash of the mirror as it shattered, scattering shards everywhere. I envisioned myself shouting at my innocent child, who was merely struggling with a transition, while I, a supposedly rational adult, lost my composure. I felt no pity for him; I felt no guilt for losing my patience. The only thing preventing me from acting on my impulses was the knowledge that I shouldn’t.
To those who argue, “It’s fine. Your partner was there. He was supervised,” I want to clarify: I was leaving that house regardless of Mark’s presence. And assuming one doesn’t have dangerous items at hand, stepping away for a moment is acceptable for any parent at their wit’s end. Perhaps, if Mark hadn’t been around, I would have locked myself in the bathroom for a moment of reprieve. Maybe I would have stepped onto the back porch and enjoyed a glass (or bottle) of wine.
I’m sharing this experience not to wallow in guilt over losing my cool, as many parents do. I’m recounting it because my instinct was to feel terrible for walking away from my child. However, I refuse to continue playing this guilt game. I genuinely believe that stepping away from Ethan was the right call, and I encourage other parents to do the same when necessary. If faced with the choice between throwing furniture and leaving your child alone for a brief moment, sometimes you need to walk away without guilt.
These are the challenging realities of parenting. Sometimes, you simply need to take a break.
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Summary:
Parenting is challenging, especially when children struggle with transitions. In moments of overwhelming emotion, it’s okay for parents to step away to regain their composure. Recognizing your limits is crucial, and understanding that taking a break can be a healthy choice is important for both the parent and the child.
Keyphrase: parenting challenges and emotional regulation
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