This Week: Let the Sad Be Sad
Heartbreaking as it is, sometimes the only thing we can do when our kids are sad is hold space. Same goes for us grown-ups.
Dear family and friends,
This week at the Chaos Palace was a humdinger. Y’all, I am so tired. As I mentioned last week, my wife and Baby have been traveling for the last ten days, which effectively means we’ve both been solo parenting. Sheesh. I’m not the first to say that single parents and folks who regularly do this solo parenting stuff deserve a damn Presidential Medal of Honor, but I will gladly join the chorus.
I mean, there are just so many details to remember (lunchboxes, school uniforms, meetings with teachers, playdates, where I put my coffee down). Being solo means flying without a safety net — if I lock myself out of the house or forget to pack a snack, no-one is coming to figure this out for me. When Baby woke up this morning at 5:00 am, cranky and unable to settle? No-one’s there to hold her for my wife. It’s just you and the tiny human in your care.
But beyond that physical and mental challenge, I think what has been the most intense was being the only vessel for the huge feelings that Big Kid experiences in his toddler heart.
Big Kid has extra big feelings, as Dr. Becky Kennedy of Good Inside would say. When he’s happy, well, he’s literally bouncing off the walls1. When he’s sad, he’s distraught, completely overcome with sorrow.
Yesterday, for example, I lost my patience when he was getting ready for preschool. I’m not a morning person, and neither is he, and I think both of us were kind of done with this week. So, when I clipped his backpack on for him, despite protestations that he wanted to do it himself, he turned to me, tears welling up in his eyes, face crumpling, and said, “Mama, you made me so sad.”
Then he burst into tears.
Soon, I was tearing up, too. We spent the next ten minutes on the floor of our front hallway, him wrapped in my embrace as I promised to always let him clip his backpack. Eventually, he calmed down. We wiped our noses. And we walked the three minutes to school. It was a lot for 8:00 a.m.
When I told my wife what happened, I was really upset with myself. I know he’s resilient, and I know yesterday’s broken heart in the hallway was not about backpacks. It was about being heard instead of ignored. It was about feeling some semblance of control over a pretty uncontrollable life. It was about an unexpected inflexibility from his mama, who is usually pretty soft and silly. “I should know better,” I told her, “but I’m just so full.”
The thought that I made him so sad destroyed me. This child, flesh of my flesh, innocent and sweet, as yet unhardened by the shitty world, was driven to tears because I wanted to get to school on time2. How could I?
Or so my inner critic said, in increasing volume throughout the day.
The thing is, though, that it’s fine. He’s fine. I’m fine. I mean, this whole story is dramatic and all, but he also cried yesterday when he couldn’t play with the Little League at the park. Dear Reader, he is not old enough for Little League, nor has he ever shown any interest in it before yesterday.
During both of those instances, I desperately wanted to fix things. I’m a doer; one of the hardest things for me to tolerate is inaction. When he cried in the hallway I wanted to reverse the clock, redo the interaction. Impossible, of course. At the park, I nearly jumped up to harass an innocent coach into letting us borrow a bat. More possible, but still the wrong move.
What I’m learning is that, unfortunately, the right move is to not move. I know. What the hell.
But it’s true. The right move is to say, “Oh honey, you’re right. This is a bummer,” and offer a hug. If he doesn’t want one, sit there.
If this is hard to do for Big Kid, it’s even harder to do for myself. I don’t want to sit and be sad. I want to listen to some music, or read a book, or watch a Netflix special. Anything to distract me from the truth of what I’m feeling — overwhelmed, anxious, and more than a little plagued with self-doubt.
Parenting this week has pushed me way out of my comfort zone. I’ve had to completely rework my expectations of myself. Case in point: for the last three days, Big Kid has eaten breakfast and dinner in front of Gabby’s Dollhouse (thanks Netflix!) because I cannot muster the energy it takes to corral him into a chair for a full meal. Before becoming a parent, I would likely have sworn that this would never happen.
Y’all, my inner critic is having a field day with that one. We’re still arguing about it, in my head, as I write these words. “You’re a terrible mother,” she hisses at me. “But I just did four crafts and played tag all afternoon!” I counter. And so on.
My inner critic is one reason I want to escape into a new podcast or a baking show. I’m also just feeling blue. I miss my wife. I miss Baby. I want a hug. I don’t like being sad; Big Kid isn’t the only one around here with bigger-than-average feelings. But I guess the only way out is through? Or something?
I’ve learned during these very long days (and nights) of solo parenting. First, despite what my inner critic may say, I am actually capable of holding down this fort. I did not lock us out of the house, or leave the car lights on3, or forget to pay the rent, or sleep through my alarm. As a person with ADHD, I've long felt that I could not manage my life without my extremely competent partner. Now I know I actually can trust myself to not fuck things up.
That’s pretty huge for me.
Second, I can be sad and not fall apart. I don’t know what else to say about that, except that the ability to make space for a tough feeling without drowning in it is one I didn’t used to have.
Of course, my self-doubt is quite well ingrained. So is my sadness. I don’t, for one second, believe I’m cured of these. But I sparred with both of them and I’m still here. Knee-deep in the mess, but standing.
Tomorrow morning, we’ll be together again. That’ll undoubtedly bring its own kind of mess and lessons. Honestly, I can’t freaking wait. Let’s lean into the chaos, yeah?
May this be a Shabbat of letting whatever we feel be what it is.
Sending lots of love from my Chaos Palace to yours,
Mikhal
Music
I really think I should write something here about the joy of playing music with Big Kid, even if all we play is Wipe Out and Good Vibrations. I cannot, in good faith, recommend that you listen to these songs as much as we do. I can (and do!) recommend Dried Roses by Big Thief, one of my recent favorites. Maybe pour yourself a comforting beverage (wine? whiskey? tea?) to sip as you listen to this and watch the drip-dripping of the rain.
Dried Roses is off the most recent release by this miracle of a band, an album called Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You. The whole thing is a revelation. Listen to it start to finish, like we used to do before streaming, and thank me later.
Reading
This visual essay by
, published in , is a great dive into why clothes made for folks who identify as women have such nonsensical sizing. It's got a good balance of history and personal experience, and it's just important to talk more about the reality of how clothing is sized to make us all feel like we're maybe a little bit losing our minds.I’m gonna go ahead and recommend
again because I can't ever get enough of her writing. She published this perfect essay about Tucker Carlson's influence on our body politic in her publication and I was very grateful to get it in my inbox.Book-wise, I got my copies of
's new book Fat Talk: Parenting in the Age of Diet Culture and 's The Ugly History of Beautiful Things: Essays on Desire and Consumption in the mail today and will be diving headfirst into both of those. I’ll keep you posted on all my thoughts about those (I’m excited to have many!
Pictured above: A drum set, of course. Everything is a drum set.
Like, actually. He climbs on the sofa and launches himself around the room like a mini parkour master.
We were already 30 minutes late, of course.
Ok, that actually did happen once. But I remembered before it was too late.
Mikhal, you gotta give yourself some huge credit for not only being able to hold down the fort but also gleaning the wisdom from what seemed to be pure chaos. I love this: "letting whatever we feel be what it is." This realization is huge. I hope you allow your inner child the space to feel whatever big feelings you feel. And when your inner child is soothed, you might find it easier to extend that space to your kiddos as well.