My 4-year-old daughter, Zoe, sobbed for what felt like an eternity yesterday. In fact, she had been crying the entire day before that, and the one before that too. There are understandable reasons for her emotional outbursts. The transition back to school has left her sleep-deprived and struggling to adjust from our cozy home routine to pre-kindergarten’s structured environment.
For a child her age, these feelings of distress are entirely justified. The adult equivalent might be akin to being dropped into a remote jungle village with a casual “Good luck!” while someone waves goodbye from a helicopter. It’s a lot to handle for a little one.
On an intellectual level, I fully grasp why Zoe is feeling this way. However, being aware of her emotional turmoil doesn’t magically transform me into a tranquil, understanding parent. When she declared last night that the dinner I prepared (nothing out of the ordinary) was “weird” and then launched into inconsolable wailing, I found myself at a loss. Other things that triggered her tears over the past three days included her shorts “feeling funny,” her brother Lucas touching her shoulder, and me “shouting” at her (which was simply me asking her to move her cup away from the edge of the table).
As bedtime approached, the situation escalated. Zoe insisted that we were a co-sleeping family now, despite the fact that the only times we’ve co-slept were right after her birth, during a hotel stay, and while camping. My husband tends to toss and turn enough at night; I really didn’t need my kids adding to the chaos.
I had shown patience and empathy for three days straight. Even for the majority of yesterday, I maintained a fragile sense of calm. I hugged her, reassured her, explained things, distracted her, sang lullabies, and snuggled. I took deep breaths, attempting to share my peace through my heartbeat—but by last night, after an exhausting day of being the “Best Mom Ever,” I hit my breaking point.
Zoe was screaming that she would never sleep in her room again. I tried to be calm and assertive: “It’s bedtime now.” I attempted to show empathy: “I understand; it’s been a tough few days. I’ll rub your back for a while.” I even resorted to a firm tone: “Don’t talk to me like that, young lady.” But finally, I snapped. “I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!!! I’M LOSING MY MIND!!! I’M OUT OF HERE!”
My husband stayed with Zoe while she continued to wail, and I stepped outside to walk in circles around the driveway. I needed a break from the sound of her cries. I had reached a point where I either needed to scream so loud I’d scare my kids or hurl a piece of furniture. So I walked away.
For a split second, I considered picking up Zoe’s nightstand and throwing it at her dresser, picturing the crash of shattered glass and the chaos that would unfold. I imagined myself yelling at her innocent little face while she processed her own struggles. I had completely lost my empathy and felt no guilt for feeling that way. The only thing stopping me from acting on my impulse was the knowledge that I shouldn’t.
To those who might say, “It’s okay; your husband was there,” I’ll be honest: I would have left that house whether he was present or not. And assuming there aren’t hazardous objects lying around, it’s completely acceptable for any parent at their wits’ end to take a moment away. If my husband hadn’t been home, I might have locked myself in the bathroom for a breather or stepped onto the back porch to enjoy a glass (or bottle) of wine.
I’m not sharing this tale to wallow in guilt over losing my cool with my daughter. We all have those moments. What I want to convey is that my first instinct was to feel terrible for walking away. However, I’ve decided I’m done playing the guilt game. I believe—I know—that stepping away was the right choice, and I encourage every mother out there to do the same when necessary. If it’s between losing your composure and taking a quick break, sometimes you just have to step back, and you shouldn’t feel bad about it. These are the messy realities of parenting, and sometimes, checking out is the only option.
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