I never expected to find myself there, outside of the bedroom wherein a furious 4-year-old lost all control. Venomous words snaked from his mouth while the heels of his feet pounded his bedroom door. I had never seen my sweet boy overtaken by rage, his baby sister sleeping sweetly one room over. I was at a loss at what to do, rapidly sending my husband S.O.S. texts while he worked an overnight shift.
Frozen in overwhelming stress, I stood outside his bedroom. Just stood.
Ten minutes passed, the kicking stopped but his yelling persisted. Cries of a child in resisting defeat. My heart was breaking and I just stood, waiting.
Waiting for what? A saving text with words of wisdom from my husband? The tantrum to magically cease? A momentous angelic light to bring my sweet boy back? Anything was welcome. I was hoping for anything.
I heard his feet stomp back toward the door. This time I relented, allowing it to whip open.
“MOM, THAT WAS NOT NICE,” he hissed.
Now, I know you’re wondering how we spiraled here. Well, my friends, prepare yourself for the injustice:
I told Little Dude it was time to get ready for bed.
Uffda, I’m a terrible mom! Looking back now it makes me chuckle, but at the time his meltdown made me feel like a failure. Where had I gone wrong? It was almost an out-of-body experience as I watched myself hold his bedroom door closed. I never wanted to be here, yet here we were.
Our little man is a sensitive boy. At only 4, he’s emotional, compassionate, extremely empathetic. His emotions easily take hold of him. He craves human connection, which is where I now see I’ve been failing him these last few months. Every day I shower him in cuddles, but not without a distracting crutch. I’m learning that everything detracts from his required one-on-one attention. TV, chores, errands, school work, dogs, his sister, even adult conversation with his dad while we’re together. I’ve allowed too many things get in the way of what this little boy needs. He needs ME. Full attention, bonding, laughing and playing.
I’ve been too busy.
The realization has crippled me with guilt. Sure, I’ve been busy. The mile-long list of all that fills my plate is not relevant; we’re all busy. Very busy. Are we taking the time to truly see our children? Are we taking advantage of the moments we can?
I’ve been too busy.
I’ve neglected to stop and see him. I’ve failed to give him my all. I’ve been distracted and busy and pushing our time aside. I’ve been too busy.
As he opened the door, he was surprised to see me still standing there. He was prepared for a witch hunt, and yet there I still was. So, he did the best he could trying to push more buttons.
“Mom, that was NOT nice,” he repeated. But this time, I saw his sweet face flicker through the anger. My sensitive little man unknowingly begging for compassion, still unable to find the words.
Remember how our childhood cartoons facing a decision donned an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other? I knew the moment he opened the door I could take one of two directions: I could vent my anger created by him yelling, insulting, and kicking our house; or, I could change the pattern and show him compassion.
But I was angry that night. He hurt me with his words and it was hard to let that go. I knew at that moment, however, it was time to meet him at his level.
I simply replied, “I am happy to talk when you use a calm voice.” As quickly as it began, instantly all rage drained from his face. He was done.
We walked back to his bed hand-in-hand. Without words, he climbed into my lap. We hugged. We hugged and hugged and hugged, still without words. We were healing each other’s hearts.
Five minutes later, his head lifted off of my chest. “Mom, can we be friends again?” We’ll always be friends. But friends have fights sometimes. It’s our job as friends to apologize when we hurt others, and forgive those friends who hurt us.
“Mom, I’m sorry.” He buried his head back into my chest.
“I’m sorry, too.”
That night was a climax of emotion, his pent-up frustration erupting like a volcano. Don’t we all have moments like those?
I learned a lot that evening. I learned to look beyond my own anger to see the suffering child beneath his rage. I learned love beats anger. I learned that this sensitive boy needs more than I had been allocating to him. I learned that parenting is simultaneous broken hearts, eternal frustration, and unparalleled joy. I learned giving myself time to calm helped both of us. I learned that sometimes volcanos just need to erupt, and fighting fire with fire deepens the damage.
I’ve learned that sensitive hearts need connection. Not anger, not punishment. I learned that hugs heal. And I learned that no matter what challenges lie in our paths, our children deserve us.
I know you can’t dedicate every moment to your children. Give yourself grace, mama, you don’t need to. But I’m discovering my half attention was just as bad as no attention. Moving forward I understand that I need to be better at allocating quality time for my kids. The chores can wait. My phone won’t go anywhere. But these kids will only be kids for so long.
They need you. They need us. Too busy is no longer an option.
