I was at the grocery store, though I can’t recall exactly what I needed. What I do remember vividly is my little one, Zoe, howling while half hanging out of the cart, her curly hair bouncing as she screamed. She was two, wearing a bright yellow shirt covered in cartoon characters, with one pacifier in her mouth and another clutched in her tiny hand.
My partner, John, was off browsing another aisle with our older kids, Liam and Ella. Meanwhile, I was left to manage a distressed toddler with tear-streaked cheeks and a nose that was a mess. She had been up since the ungodly hour of 3 a.m., wide awake for no reason other than wanting to watch endless cartoons. Now, at 3 p.m., both of us were exhausted, but it was clear that I was holding it together much better than she was. We thought that the car ride would soothe her enough to nap, but it clearly didn’t work.
Zoe’s sleep issues began with frequent wakings at night. We tried to eliminate her afternoon naps, hoping it would help, but instead, it disrupted her entire sleep pattern. Now she was stuck in a state of overtiredness, transitioning from merely being tired to a full-blown, wide-eyed, delusional state where sleep was impossible. And here we were, in the middle of the grocery store, with everyone bearing witness to her meltdown.
This is the reality of having an overtired child: it’s a constant cycle of inexplicable screams and irrational demands. It’s the request for snacks, followed by a tantrum when those snacks don’t meet her expectations. It’s watching her flop onto the floor, wailing, and in those moments, the only thought that crosses my mind is that I need an exorcist—because even a priest wouldn’t be able to calm an overtired child.
For those who don’t have children, think of it this way: if a well-rested child were represented as a number line, with 0 being fully rested and 10 being utterly exhausted, an overtired child is an 11. It’s a threshold beyond what can be explained by science or common sense. The only remedy is sleep, but once a child crosses into that chaotic overtired zone, getting them to calm down can take what feels like an eternity.
I attempted to soothe Zoe by lifting her out of the cart, but she kicked at me in protest. When I set her down to walk, she collapsed on the floor in a heap. I bribed her with candy, but she shoved my hand away. Nothing seemed to work.
As I battled this situation, I noticed the disapproving stares from other shoppers—those judgmental glances that parents know all too well when their children are having a meltdown. It’s the typical reaction from non-parents and those who seem to think they have all the answers. I wanted to glare back or explain that kids act out when they are overtired, but with my hands full, I was left to just endure their silent judgments.
I decided to move to a quieter part of the store, my mind wandering to thoughts of revenge. I imagined the day when I could prank my son by writing “FART” on the back of his first car or hiding in my daughter’s pantry for a surprise scare. As Zoe continued to scream, I couldn’t help but fantasize about waking her up at 3 a.m. when she was a teenager and watching her go through a moody day of her own. Not that I would actually do that, but it was a delightful thought.
Eventually, I reunited with John and the older kids in the clothing section. John was picking out shirts for Liam when Zoe reached for her mother. As soon as John lifted her, Zoe went silent, burying her face in his shoulder, wrapping her little legs around his waist, and drifting off to sleep as if he were some kind of magical remedy.
“What just happened?” I exclaimed, feeling a mix of disbelief and a tinge of jealousy. John shrugged, and in that moment, I transitioned from frustration to feeling somewhat cheated. It was true what they say—mothers do seem to possess some extraordinary power.
“She just needed Mom,” John said with a shrug, and he took Zoe to the car while I finished our shopping. As we drove home in silence with Zoe peacefully asleep, I couldn’t help but worry about tomorrow. I hoped she would fall back into a regular sleep schedule, but deep down, I realized that this struggle with an overtired child was just another aspect of parenting—an exhausting and challenging one at that.
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In summary, parenting an overtired child is a tumultuous experience filled with loud tantrums, endless demands, and the challenge of managing the opinions of others. The only true remedy is rest, but navigating the path to it can feel like an uphill battle.