This morning did not go the way I wanted, and yet somehow I managed to calm the storms and make a horrible morning better.

When I wake up, I usually have about 30 minutes to myself before the kids demand my attention. But before I could use that precious “me time” to plan my day, choose my main priorities, calm my mind with quiet, and get myself dressed, I heard my 3-year-old wailing. Thus began a rather trying morning.

Incident one: Preschooler meltdown

I took a deep breath and rolled out of bed. In the playroom, I found my preschooler kneeling on the floor, a hunched over ball of sobbing defeat. I sat in front of him, the sympathy visible on my face. He didn’t move. He didn’t say a word. He just looked at me, tears rolling down his plump red cheeks. I asked if I could move closer. He nodded. As I sat beside him, he curled onto my lap. I rubbed his back while he sighed out his remaining cry. 

What caused this distress? Big brother, who finally emerged from his hiding spot, explained that he had turned on the playroom’s light despite my preschooler begging to do just that. Yep, not being allowed to turn on the light equated to the world crashing down on his little shoulders. Kids and switches, man.

We all need to cry sometimes.

But I get it. Being 3 years old is tough. My preschooler wants to assert himself and take on the world, and the world says, “Aww, you’re too little. We’re faster. We’re bigger. We’re more capable than you.” Poor kiddo. I continued to rub his back and told him it’s okay to cry; we all need to cry sometimes. 

Incident two: Siblings hitting

After convincing the kids to get dressed, I went to the bathroom. The 3 minutes in which I had disappeared concluded with the walls vibrating as heavy items crashed onto the playroom floor, the source of which oscelated from opposite ends of the room. Oh, dear. Again, I took a deep breath before reentering the room and seeing which items my kids had thrown at each other. 

I asked what’s going on and why is everyone so upset, and my 6-year-old answered with shouting and throwing a storage box lid at his little brother. Before I could take one step forward, my preschooler threw a building block back. Too many potential projectiles littered the playroom floor. My kids were already scanning for the next one. We needed to change environments immediately. 

If I had said anything at that point, I would have just given them more reason to feel unheard.

So I took hold of their hands and half led (half dragged) them out of the playroom. They protested. They yelled. I waited, surprised by my own capacity to remain quiet. If I had said anything at that point, I would have just given them more reason to feel like the world (and I) was against them, which would result in more anger and yelling and hitting. 

Once they screamed out their frustrations and I showed they had my attention, they finally found their words, and we found a solution. Yay, we could move on with the morning. Maybe I could finally get dressed. Silly, silly me. 

Incident three: Destroyed work

We all went downstairs, only to walk right into another incident: My 6-year-old discovered his new Kinex ship smashed into pieces. He wailed. I tried to hug him, but he pushed me away. I sat down and waited. I let him cry out every emotion he had stuffed way down deep over the past few days. I told him how sorry I was that he was having a really hard morning, and I showed him I wouldn’t leave him alone with those big feelings. 

I showed him I wouldn’t leave him alone with those big feelings. 

One of my favorite lessons I learned from Dr. Laura Markham, creator of AhaParenting.com, is that kids don't try to give us a hard time; they're really having a hard time. And that's exactly what I realized as my 6-year-old sobbed hysterically. Both my kids were having a hard time that morning.

After everyone calmed down again, I explained to little brother that we protect other people’s hard work. Then I managed to rebuild that Kinex ship, at the end of which my 6-year-old ran into my arms and gave me a super tight hug. 

A successful morning

By the time the kids sat down for breakfast, I had 25 minutes to get them out the door. Frozen waffles to the rescue! While they ate, I packed up lunch, applied the 6-year-old’s sunblock in between bites, made a second round of frozen waffles(!), found a towel for waterplay, filled everyone’s water bottles, and got myself dressed. 

Shockingly, the kids cooperated completely. My preschooler went potty all on his own when asked. My eldest got his shoes and socks on without protest or dillydallying. Everyone found something to help carry outside, and we were out the door early. Mind blowing! 

In the end, my kids helped me because I had helped them. 

And while I say “shockingly,” it’s really not. I’ve read enough positive parenting material and taken enough courses to recognize that in the end, my kids helped me because I had helped them. Some days we wake up cranky. I know I do. This morning, I had two cranky, tired, hungry, overwhelmed kids. Every time they raged, I calmed the storm, rather than enhancing it with my own anger. I helped both kids empty their emotional backpacks and feel heard and validated. I showed them I’ll listen to their problems and help them find solutions. They even apologized to each other, willingly. 

And after we were out the door, I made time to be gentle with myself too. We parents are allowed to take time, even just 5 minutes, to self-sooth and reset our emotional well-being. We listened to my 80s rock music in the car, bobbing our heads to the energizing beat. After camp drop off, my preschooler and I went to the playground, and while he jumped and stomped and climbed and slid, I sat on a rock, drank my water, cleared my mind, and then chose my three big priorities for the rest of the day. 

I even managed to get in a power nap this afternoon. Parenting win! 

Featured photo by Brandon Morgan on Unsplash