“I’m not sure where your ear defenders are.”
Matt was replying to my angry slamming of tongs into the utensil holder.
There was so much unsaid in this response. If verbal, it would be as follows: I see that you’re overwhelmed, on day eight of sickness; that this is only your second evening without a fever; that our child is currently screaming at the table and possibly close to knocking crockery on the floor and definitely shredding some paper you wanted to keep; that you are exhausted and fed up; that, even with all this, I am still trusting your nudging that I go shower and get into bed because I do have a fever and am on day seven of sickness; and I know you well enough to know that ear defenders are going to get you all through this moment with connection intact.
Matt saw me, understood me, knew what I needed in that moment and how best to get it.
We made it through with connection intact, this child and I. What began with them gaining the understanding of the Stupid Dummy Stupidest Dummy Dummest Rule that the gifted, new-to-us, i-pad was not for this child’s playtime whenever they pleased, and morphed into wails just before dinner, anger and demands throughout dinner and consistent, intermittent, piercing, half-screaming after dinner, ended with apple and peanut butter with Mummy and Daddy and a discussion about the ducks.
Said child is now falling asleep in bed, content in the knowledge that I love them without any suggestion this evening that there was something wrong or shameful about them.
I’ve been thinking about cycle breaking recently. I’ve been in my own cycle of I MUST have an inventory of all harmful patterns and change them, permanently, forever, perfectly! This flows into I’ve already screwed my children up so badly because I wasn’t fast enough to spot the patterns and I’m not loving/kind/sweet/generous/patient/trusting enough anyway.
And then a night like tonight happens. Tonight, I did what I wanted to do.
This kiddo, is tucked up in bed, kisses from both of us, co-regulated without another word about the ipad. Because it was never about the ipad.
They could have had a sore bottom, bed without dinner, a lecture about how we will ask your uncle not to send us any more gifts because nice children don’t behave like this, tuts, side-eye glares of shame, this is very naughty, I think we’ll just send the i-pad back, use your words, what would your uncle think if he saw you like this?
Or, they could have been bombarded with frantic coos and soothing tones and offers of back rubs or hugs or kisses. All with the hidden message that their anger is scary to me, that I can’t handle it, that it must be stopped, stifled, buried, hidden.
Instead, they got to express their anger near a mummy who was close but not too close (washing dishes); who trusted this child’s process, believing it would come to it’s own conclusion in time; who, once ear defenders were in place, remained calm and relaxed and curious and occasionally checked in letting this child know they were seen and heard.
Cycle shifted, this time.
I’m super curious. What’s in your cycle-breaking inventory? What patterns do you want to shift or change?
Holy cow. That was an amazing post. What a great story, and so well written! Keep going. The world needs more of what you're writing. ❤️