Episode 01: My Rock-Bottom Parenting Moment (Listen to the episode below!)
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Megan introduces her family and discusses the purpose of creating this podcast - to normalize raising challenging kids and struggling through tough moments. She recounts her worst parenting moment with her three year old son (it involves a waffle) and invites other mothers to share in the fact that parenting tough kids is really hard, yet should be discussed and supported. (See more below)
Welcome! I am so glad you’re here and joining me for the first episode of my podcast “On the hard days”. I created this platform for mothers of challenging kids. You know, the kids who test you to the limit. The kids you love with all of your being, and drive you to the end of your rope. The kids you lose sleep over, trying to understand and connect with, and wonder just how on earth you can support them. It takes a village to raise a child. In some cases, a whole town. But here’s the thing - mothers need a village, too. A village of mothers supporting mothers, raising you up in hard times and cheering you on through your successes. That’s why I started “On The Hard Days”. That village is right here. In most episodes, I’ll be sharing moments of my parenting journey (the good, the bad, and the ugly) along with tips and strategies you can try at home today. In time, I hope to be able to share YOUR stories, because truly, we are all in this together.
So let’s get started. My husband and I have been married for 11 years, but have been together since we were 15. We are total opposites in many ways - I’m a morning person, he’s a night person. I worry a lot, he rarely does. We’ve both changed over the years, but luckily our changes have still meshed together well. I am grateful for him and all that he does for our family.
I have three children, and for the sake of privacy I will refer to them as Mr. 7, Miss 7, and Mr. 4. Mr. 7 is the reason for the podcast. As you’ll see, he’s a pretty complicated, amazing kid. He’s also so intelligent, passionate, sensitive, and a fellow introvert. He’s a mama’s boy and is such a love. Miss 7 is my mini-me, but the upgraded version. Her mission in life is to make sure her loved ones are happy, even at the sake of her own well-being. She’s giggly, loving, and very nurturing. She’s a wonderful musician and a great friend to all. Mr. 4 is my wild man. He’s not anxious at all (unlike his siblings), goes with the flow, and was born without fear. He’s also hilarious and we all laugh with him everyday. I am so lucky.
Now, I’m choosing to start this podcast with a doozy of an episode. My rock-bottom parenting moment is one for the books, but I’m choosing to share it because I want mothers to know that they are not alone. Parenting is hard, no matter what - but especially when you have challenging kids.
My rock-bottom parenting moment took place in 2016, when Mr. 4 was only a month old, and the twins were three. My husband was at work, and I was taking the kids to the beach. As I got us all packed and ready, I fed the twins breakfast. I served them homemade waffles with creamy peanut butter spread on top. I gave the twins their plates, and then turned to take care of the baby. Suddenly, Mr. 7 (again, he was barely three) started screaming. The peanut butter wasn’t spread right. Apparently, I had missed some spots. I tried to fix it and made it worse. The screaming intensified and he became out of control. At this point, struggling with a crying baby, a screaming toddler, and another toddler who was watching this in shock, I suddenly thought about this parenting strategy I had heard somewhere that was supposed to be firm, and show the child that I was in charge: “Go to your room. You can come out when you’re calm.” Looking back, this was a truly ridiculous thing to ask of my newly three year old. But at the time, I couldn’t figure out what else to do. At this point, we would be late for the beach.
Well, of course Mr. 7 wouldn’t stay in his room. His body was thrashing and he was screaming like he was on fire. So I decided to…shut the door. Which of course, I had to hold it shut. Mr. 7 started running full speed into the door, screaming and crying. I panicked. “He’s going to hurt himself,” I realized. The baby and Miss 7 were downstairs, unsupervised. I opened the door and tried to hold and comfort him, but he was way past that. So I brought him downstairs. We tried the waffle again. I knew he was hungry, and if he would just eat one bit of waffle, this would all end. He refused, and continued screaming, completely out of his mind.
I felt cloudy-headed. I couldn’t think straight. Wasn’t it true that fresh air could be calming? Maybe he needed air. So I put him on the deck. The slider door was right next to the breakfast table, so I would be able to watch all three kids at once. At first, I left the door open, but of course, he wouldn’t stay out there. So I shut that door, too. The fact that I put him out there alone sent him into a complete panic. Looking back, I see now that this was a panic attack, which I caused. I had to hold the slider door shut, because he was trying to come in. All the while, I tried to soothe him. “As soon as you’re calm,” I said in a quiet voice, “you can come back in.” I reiterated to him, “Take some deep breaths. You’re okay.” Obviously, not helpful. Then, Mr. 7 started flipping my deck furniture - table, chairs, the whole nine yards. I immediately rushed to him and again, tried to comfort him with a hug he didn’t want.
At this point, we were in crisis mode. I didn’t want him to hurt himself, I just wanted him to calm down. So finally, with a little clarity, I packed his uneaten waffle, put the other two kids in the car, and got Mr. 7 out to the driveway. “Just get to the beach,” I told myself. My friends could help me and he would calm down. And as I brought him to the car, the most embarrassing thing happened. My neighbor came walking up the drive.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, skeptical. In his 70’s, I barely knew him, and he certainly didn’t know us. I assured him we were fine, and that my son was a difficult kid and this was all over a waffle. “Okay,” he said, but his tone and his look showed that he was pretty unsure. I shook as I buckled them all in.
On the way to the beach, we all cried. Mr. 7 was still going - it had been an hour at this point. I was exhausted and drained. 40 minutes into the ride, Mr. 7 finally calmed.
Once we got to the beach, I handed off the baby and Miss 7 went to play in the sand. I put up a beach tent, handed Mr. 7 his cold, soggy waffle, and he went. to. town. The kid was starving, of course. It was almost 11:00 by now. He ate and ate and ate.
And then he was fine. Like it never even happened. He played in the sand and had a wonderful time.
I guess I’m still traumatized by it. Looking back, I would have made completely different choices from start to finish. But I had no parenting experience. I had no knowledge of what to do when a child won’t stop screaming. I had no knowledge that my son can’t STAND being alone (to this day) and freaks out if he is. I’m sharing this moment because I have no doubt that you, reading this, likely have a tough parenting moment yourself. What if we all shared them? What if we didn’t sit in that shame and guilt, and accepted who we are as mothers? That’s my goal, and as the podcast continues, I hope to do just that.